Upside Down and Sideways
by mamapranayama
Summary: Set just after ELAC. Dean's world has been turned on it's head- He's alive while his Dad is dead and Sam just won't leave him alone. Consumed by rage and grief, his anger has consequences that neither he nor Sam can foresee. Limp!Sam, Angry!Dean. Complete
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's character's aren't mine, but it sure sure would be nice if they were.

Title: Upside Down and Sideways

Genre: Gen

Category: Angst, whump

Summary: Set just after ELAC. Dean's world has been turned on it's head- He's alive while his Dad is dead and Sam just won't leave him alone. Consumed by rage and grief, his anger has consequences that neither he nor Sam can foresee. Limp!Sam, Angry/protective/hurt!Dean, ultra-awesome/curmudgeonly!Bobby.

warning: strong language ahead

**Upside Down and Sideways**

**Chapter One**

_I'm not okay, and neither are you...._

Angrily wiping the tears that had filled his eyes away, Sam retreated from his brother, knowing that the confession he had just made to him would not go over well. He was only a short distance away when he heard the first crash of glass breaking and shattering. His first instinct was to turn around and run back to the sound, but he held himself back, hearing the metallic thuds of metal slamming into metal. Dean was beyond reasoning with now and he had to let some of the anger he had been bottling up inside out. He wanted nothing better than to go back to him, but Sam thought it wiser to let Dean take his frustrations out on the car rather than him.

Besides, he was too angry with himself to go back. He tried to help, tried to get Dean to open up to him, to share the pain and grief that they both felt, but Dean's lancing and spiteful words still hung heavy over him. What Dean had said was true, he had never been the model son that their father had wanted and trying to make up for it now he was dead was never going to bring him back or win his approval.

It was all too little, too late.

The beating Dean was unleashing on his car continued as Sam walked up the rickety wood steps of Bobby's porch and sat, feeling the crushing weight of despair and guilt he was choking on. Dean had every right to want nothing to do with him right now and he needed his space. Sam ran a hand through his hair and breathed a heavy, sorrowful sigh.

By the time the sounds of the metal being crushed finally stopped, Sam had made up his mind. He needed to get out of here-Dean needed him to get out of here. There was just no way around it. Determined now, he stood and made his way inside to pack.

OOOOOO

Dean threw the crow bar down to the ground, letting it land with a heavy, metallic clank and sank down next to it, his back up against his now ruined car. He clenched and unclenched his fists as the anger that had so totally overpowered him minutes ago receded into a haze and left him panting and exhausted.

At first, the release had felt good and it had felt right to smash something. If Sam had stuck around any longer than he had, he probably would have hit him. He hated it that his brother had confessed his hurt to him and that he wanted him to join in some sort of fucking pity party.

Instead, the rush of adrenaline as he took that crowbar and smashed it repeatedly into the trunk lid. allowing the destruction to flow out of him freely and onto the metal had been cathartic. He was glad at least But now he was just tired, so damn tired. Tired of fighting with Sam, tired of his prodding, tired of him trying to get him to break down into some mass of blubbering, girlie goo, tired of working on the car endlessly in order to keep from turning into said blubbering mass of goo.

Looking back on it now, he could only feel regret. Dad would have kicked his ass from there to the end of the yard if he had seen what he had just done to the Impala, but his dad wasn't there, was he? No, instead Dean was alive when he should be dead and his dad was dead when he should be alive. It was all wrong and unnatural, as if the entire order of his life had been turned upside down and sideways.

Dean let his shoulders slump in defeat. He couldn't bring his dad back, but he could fix his car and bring that back to life and now he had ruined even that. With his racing heartbeat coming down a notch, he stood on unsteady feet to survey the damage.

"Ahhh, shit." He breathed to himself seeing the havoc he had wreaked. It was going to take him forever to repair this. But fix her he would. There wasn't much else he could fix in his f'd-up life, but this he could.

OOOOOO

Hauling his newest acquisition behind him in his tow-truck, Bobby Singer had been glad to get out of the junkyard for a while and leave the two Winchesters to themselves for awhile. Not that he didn't love the boys like they were his own flesh and blood, but damn those kids were determined to drive him into and early grief was palpable, he could see the pain in each of their eyes, but what was worse was seeing them both drift away from each other when they needed to be united now more than ever.

To be fair, mostly it was Dean doing the pushing away. Bobby had seen Sam make the effort to reach out to his brother, only to be shut out. He knew that that hurt the younger one almost as much as losing their dad, but Dean's pain was too raw for him to see any of that.

Pulling into the yard, he pulled off his cap and wiped the sweat from his brow, deciding that a drink was in order before he put his newest jalopy away.

Striding up the stairs and into the house he noticed how quiet it was. Dean was no doubt still working on his damn car, though Bobby had been impressed by how quickly the kid was making progress on it, he didn't think the thing was even close to being salvageable, but Dean was proving him wrong every day.

Sam was nowhere in sight, his usual spot by the bookshelf was empty. Just as his older brother was determined to restore his car, the younger one had been just as adamant to find the demon that had taken their dad away and had read almost every book in Bobby's extensive collection to find any way of finding it.

Bobby could only shake his head and walk over to the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab a beer and twisting the cap off before downing half of it straight away. The sounds of feet walking down the stairs caught his attention and he headed towards it just in time to see two lanky legs descending.

Sam seemed surprised to see Bobby at the bottom of the stairs. On one shoulder he hefted a full duffel bag and the older man frowned. "What the hell is that bag for, Sam?"

"Uh..." Sam began eloquently.

"Well, boy?" Bobby prodded impatiently.

Sam walked the rest of the way down the stairs and slumped the bag to the floor before answering. It had been bugging him for the last couple of days that their father's truck had been left abandoned in Lincoln. He had meant to talk to Dean about going back for it, but his brother's rebuffs and refusals to even so much as mention their dad had left him holding off, but now he knew that the time had come for at least one of them to go and retrieve it. Besides, it also gave him the perfect reason to give Dean and himself some much needed space for them to both clear their heads.

"I'm going to Lincoln." Sam finally spit out after taking a breath, knowing that Bobby wasn't going to be pleased with his decision. "Dad's truck is still there and I'm going to go pick it up."

"And you were going to mention this when?"

"Well, I was going to ask you if I could borrow that rusty old van of yours again, that is if you got it running. Thought I could take it to the bus station in town and I'll ride the bus to Nebraska then drive the truck back. You guys can pick the van up from the station later."

Bobby tore off his cap and rubbed his head. "Sam, that truck's bound to be in impound by now. Hell, I wouldn't even be surprised if it's been auctioned off already."

"I called ahead, The truck's in the impound, but I'll get it out. It's set to be auctioned by the police next week, but I just can't let that happen. Dad's bound to have left some of his notes and papers inside it that might help us and besides, we could use another working vehicle....it's gonna be some time before the Impala's up and running again and I don't think Dean is too keen on using that mini-van any more."

"What does Dean think of all this?" Bobby had to ask. At Sam's silent, hardening of the eyes, Bobby knew right off that Dean didn't know anything about him deciding to take off.

"Ahhh shit, Sam. You didn't tell him?"

"I left him a note."

"A note? That boy's gonna have a conniption if you don't go and talk to him before you go."

"Bobby, I think the last thing he wants to do is talk to me." Sam sighed. "He's made it pretty clear that he's done talking. Look...Dean doesn't want me around right now and to be honest...I could use some time alone too. I'll only be gone a few days- a week at most. Dean probably won't even notice I'm gone with all of the work he still has on the car. I think this would be the best for both of us right now."

"So you're just gonna go all half-cocked on your own without even saying so much as a 'see ya later' to your brother?"

"It's better this way..." Sam shook his head sadly and with a weariness that men his age shouldn't have to carry. "I've tried. I've tried so hard to talk to him, but I don't want to fight anymore, Bobby. I'm sick of it." Bobby saw the truth in Sam's eyes, the bone-tiredness that he held in them and it was enough to make him cave. Against his better judgment, he found himself fishing out the keys to the old mini-van that he had just got running again and tossing them over to Sam. Catching them in the air, Sam gave Bobby an appreciative nod before picking up his bag and heading for the door.

"Sam-" Bobby called out to his retreating back, causing the younger man to pause and turn around. There was so much he wanted to tell the kid, that his brother would come around sooner or later, that the anger Dean kept barely at bay wasn't directed at him, but at their father, but he knew that all of that would just be lip-service until Dean actually did reach out for the one person he needed the most.

"I know, Bobby. I'm sorry to leave you with him when he's like this, but I gotta go, the bus's leaving soon.... He'll understand."

Sam turned and left and as Bobby heard the engine to the van turn over and the squeaky whine of the suspension as he pulled away from the house, he muttered to himself. "I wouldn't bet on that, you idjit."

OOOOOO

As the van sputtered and spewed large, black billows of exhaust from the muffler, Sam prayed that it would keep running long enough for it make it all of the way to the bus station. It was with a breath of relief when he finally made it and pulled into a parking spot at the station. He turned it off, hearing it clack and rumble until it finally stopped and a white cloud of steam and smoke came pouring out from under the hood.

Grabbing his bag he thanked his lucky stars that the mini-van hadn't died before getting there as the bus was leaving shortly and he didn't want to wait around until the next bus left at midnight. He rushed over to ticket counter and purchased his ticket with only minutes to spare before the bus was scheduled to depart.

Filing into the bus, he found it practically full, he had hoped for a seat by a window, but they were all taken, in fact the only seat he could find was near the back and he excused him self over and over again as he brushed by people on his way down the narrow isle.

Coming to the seat, he bent over a little to speak to the young lady sitting next to it by the window. "Excuse me." He started, she turned her head from the window towards him and he gave her a polite smile. "Is this seat taken."

The girl smiled back shyly and just shook her head.

"Mind if I sit here?" He asked.

Again she didn't speak, but shook her head again.

"Great. Thanks." He picked up his duffel bag and lifted it over his head to shove it into the cramped compartment above before taking a seat. The girl eyed him and he felt his cheeks begin to flush, as if finally realizing that she was staring at him she turned her head away sharply as though embarrassed and took to looking out the window again.

Sam's knees hit the back of the seat in front of him as he could barely squeeze his long legs into the space, but when the man in front of him, decided to lean the seat back even further, Sam glowered, but held his tongue, not wanting to ask the man in front to raise his seat back up. He just wanted to blend away into the mass of humanity on board and not cause anyone to take notice of him. For once he just wanted to feel what it was like to be normal again, to not feel like a freak, to not feel the weight of knowing that out there somewhere there were demons and monsters ready to strike at anytime or that he had a brother that couldn't stand the sight of him right now. He just wanted to be like everyone else on that bus. Just Sam Winchester, average, ordinary Joe.

OOOOOO

Bobby walked out onto the porch and watched the dust that trailed behind the mini-van as it peeled out of the salvage yard. He shook his head in dismay and a sigh of frustration. Obviously something had to have set Sam off for him to take off like this and he was going to find out what. Dean needed a talking to, had for some time, but like Sam, he hadn't made much headway into breaking through that stubborn boy's hardened shell he had built up around himself.

Knowing exactly where to find Dean, Bobby headed into the yard, past the heaps of junk and rust until he found his target standing behind his car, grasping both sides of the trunk with his head down. Crunching across the gravel to reach him, it was with a gasp that he saw the damage that had been inflicted on the poor vehicle, taking in the sight of the crowbar on the ground, the smashed glass and the dented and ruined trunk lid.

"Goddammit, Dean. What the hell did you do?" Dean didn't reply, his face set in stone, yet the white knuckles of his fingers digging into the exterior told of the turmoil rumbling inside of him.

"Not now, Bobby." Dean finally ground out through clenched teeth.

"Boy, this is a helluva mess you made here. Did you and Sam have a fight?"

"No." He came back tersely. Bobby could almost feel the rage and anger rolling off of the young man beside him. Now Bobby understood a little of why Sam was in such a desperate need to get out of there for a while. He almost felt like bolting himself, but he stood his ground, enough was enough, things couldn't go on like this.

"Dean..."

"Can't you just leave me alone for awhile. First Sam, now you?"

"Sure, I could leave you alone...That's what Sam's decided to do."

"Was that him running off to sulk?"

"You want to talk about sulking, kid, just take a look at yourself." Dean's eyes shot up at that, narrowing in on Bobby with a deadly glare, his nostrils flaring.

"Oh yeah, tough guy, you can hide out here all you want under that car, no one's gonna bug you, not now. Especially not Sam...He's going to Nebraska by the way, if you care."

"What?" Dean suddenly shot up.

"You heard me. He just up and took off, says he's gonna get your Dad's truck. Sounds like a pretty lame excuse to me, but can't say that I blame the kid for wanting to get away for a few days. Not when you're in full-on temper tantrum mode."

"What? So... you just let him go? Without even telling me? What were you thinking?" Dean eyes boiled with unrestrained anger.

"I was thinking that Sam's a grown man and he can take care of himself for a few days. He can make his own decisions."

Dean wasn't listening, already stalking back towards the house with a determined stride. Bobby shook his head and followed after him, just hoping that he wasn't going to do anything rash or start throwing shit around his house. He knew the boy wasn't going to take this well, but if he had know what an explosive mood Dean had been in before, he wouldn't have let Sam go without at least speaking to his brother first.

Barging through the front door, Dean bounded up the stairs and flung open the door to the bedroom he and Sam were sharing.

"Shit." He cursed, seeing Sam's bed made up nice and tidy, his duffel bag missing and a note perched on his pillow. He grabbed the note, seeing Sam's distinctive handwriting and quickly read it before crumpling it into a tight ball and hurling it across the room.

He thought he had gotten out some of the rage that had been building in him on his car, but now it was back with a vengeance and he just wanted hit something- mainly his brother, but without the kid there, he had to take it out on something. Anger was his constant companion of late, the one emotion he felt he could indulge in. Anger was a good thing, it sharpened the mind and the senses, created adrenaline and he never failed to channel it well when need arose. Clenching his fist tight he slammed it into wall, glad for the flair of pain through his knuckles as it made hard contact and the drywall gave way, leaving a fist-sized dent.

"When you get back, you little shit, I'm gonna whoop your ass from here to eternity." He growled to Sam's empty bed, ignoring the blood beginning to trickled from his knuckles as they started to swell. He also chose also to ignore the voice of the man coming up from behind him.

"Not before you fix my goddamn wall!"

OOOOO

Despite the cramped position Sam found himself in on the bus, he tried to make the most of the next 500 miles and get a little shut-eye. The sun had already set and the interior of the bus was dark, save for a few reading lights on here and there. The girl sitting next to him seemed to be one of those incredibly shy and awkward types, every now and then he would catch her watching him and he would just give her a quick, but polite smile to which she would blush ferociously then turn away from him.

She wasn't what anyone would call a classic beauty. She was about his age, he guessed with mousy brown hair, a little overweight, eyes a little too close together and she wore thick framed, rectangular, black glasses that did little to enhance her looks. But Sam was never one to judge a person by their appearances alone, that was Dean's department. He had tried to strike up a conversation with her as a means to pass up the time, but with only one or two word phrases as replies, he found her too nervous and guarded to carry on much of a talk. So after the first hour on the road, he gave up trying and focused and getting some rest instead.

Trying to put all thoughts about Dean, his Dad and how messed up and screwed his life had become in the last year, he closed his eyes and was actually surprised to find just how tired he truly felt. All of the pain from the accident, Dean's near-death and then his father's passing had been accumulating into a large sleep debt as nightmares and insomnia had kept him from any semblance of a normal night's sleep in weeks. Giving in to the pull, he drifted off into a light sleep.

Alicia watched the man beside of her close his eyes. She felt stupid around him, he was so tall and way too good looking for a girl like her and when he actually tried to talk with her, her heart felt like it was going to flutter out of her chest. She was too tongue-tied to get out anything and she knew how stupid she must seem to him.

Oh how she had dreamed of finding a man like him. Someone, tall, dark and handsome. That old cliché was something she she could never hope for, but there was something about this guy that told her that he was different from any other person she had ever met. But who was she kidding, she was a dumpy waitress from the backwater town she had just left behind with no possible hope of him finding her as attractive as she found him.

She sighed and tried to relax, but it wouldn't be easy with him smelling the way he did next to her. He smelled like cleanliness, but without the need for cologne. A manly smell, she decided, that's what it was.

Her eyes drifted towards his face again. She had felt so embarrassed when he caught he looking at him and she tried so hard not to stare at the sharpness of his features, the perfect angle of his jaw or the softness that she was certain he held in his lips. But, with him asleep she indulged herself to fully take in his countenance.

She imagined what it would be like to be kissed by him. For all of her 23 years she had still yet to be kissed and it was horrible being a virgin at her age. But she had never been able to get any guys to notice her, she was always the girl that sat in the corner, that was invisible. She knew she was nothing special, just an average girl, but she always had dreams of one day making something of herself, of finding that one guy who would find her to be all they ever wanted.

But that wasn't going to happen. Especially not with the fine specimen of manhood that was asleep beside her.

OOOOOO

Dean was still fuming by the time dinner rolled around. He pulled out his cell phone for what had to be the hundredth time, hitting the redial button with more force than was necessary and yet again got nothing but Sam's voice informing him to leave a message after the beep.

"Come and eat, Dean. He'll call when he calls." Bobby called grumpily from the kitchen

"Dammit, It's not like him to not answer his phone."

"He's a big boy. He's only going to Lincoln. It's an eight hour bus ride for cryin' out loud, How much trouble can he get in?"

Dean snapped his phone shut and walked over to the table. "This is Sam we're talking about. He's like a walking trouble magnet. I swear for all the brains he packs into that ginormous head of his, he does some seriously stupid shit."

"Will you sit already?" Bobby asked out of frustration. "Food's getting cold and I ain't cooking any more tonight."

Dean yanked out a chair and finally sat, his face set in stone.

"Now eat." Bobby ordered. Dean eyed the bowl of beef stew in front of him with contempt before snaking a quick look over at the empty chair that Sam always occupied.

"I'm not hungry."

"I don't care." Bobby grumbled back.

"Fine." Dean came back with his own growl and took a petulant bite.

"You know, maybe Sam's right and this ain't such a bad thing. You and your brother might need a little break from each other for a few days. You two need to get things right inside your own heads first, then maybe you guys can-"

"What?" Dean interrupted coldly. "Have a heart-to-heart and hug it out like some episode of 'Seventh Heaven'? We don't need that crap, Bobby."

"Oh well, of course not." Bobby spat out, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Not Dean Winchester, macho-man extraordinaire, son of the even more macho, John Winchester. But what about Sam? You and I both know he's not cut from the same mould as you and your Dad."

"Oh don't start on this whole, 'Sam's just more sensitive' crap. He's gotta learn to suck it up."

"Yeah, just like you and your Dad. Just bottle it all up and keep pushing it all down until there's no more room. Gotcha...Sounds like a mighty fine plan, Dean. I know Sam and your Dad never saw eye-to-eye even up to the day he died, but how do you think that makes Sam feel, knowing that he'll never have the chance to make up with him or have the kind of relationship that you had with the guy? How would you feel believing that your Dad died thinking that you hated him?"

"I don't need this, Bobby. Not now." Dean pushed his food away angrily and scraped his chair back from the table, rising to leave. Bobby knew he hit a major nerve, he could almost feel the raw emotions struggling to break free from the kid. "I got parts to find for the car."

And with that Dean was gone, leaving Bobby frazzled and envisioning his tombstone, inscribed with the epitaph, 'Here lies Bobby Singer....Dead by exasperation'.

OOOOO

William Jarvis, Slick Willy to all of his friends, smiled as he counted the bills in his hand. Boy, he was good at what he did. He couldn't believe his luck when that stupid kid passed by him on the bus, and he had never felt his hand reach into his pocket and pilfer the wallet and phone that had been haphazardly stashed in his coat pocket. It was almost too easy.

He counted two hundred dollars and it was more than he had had in far too long. He had had to pick another pocket just to afford this bus ticket. The phone he had taken was a nice one too. One of those cool new ones and he figured he could use it to make a few calls to his friends before he fenced it. However, the damn thing had started to ring off the hook and he had to turn it off when it got to be too annoying.

Lincoln was only a few hours away now and when he got there, he had friends that could hook him up with a hottie and some dope and now that he had some money, he could have a really good time. He folded the money back into the wallet he had stolen and stashed it away, taking a quick glance at the driver's license for one Sam Morrison before slipping it into his back pocket. Settling back for the ride, he smiled to himself again. Yeah, he was going to party hard when he got to Lincoln.

OOOOO

_It was starting to rain. Not too heavily yet, just enough for him to use the wipers intermittently and leave a sparkling sheen on his windshield. The yellow lines from the road blurred in front of him, weaving in and out, and doubling. It was hard to distinguish one from another, but he was certain he could keep the car moving in a straight line. He'd driven this stretch of highway between O'Malley's and his home for years, never once did he get caught or get in an accident and tonight he didn't even have that much to drink, just a few beers and a whiskey shot. He'd been far more drunk before and still made it home in one piece. Tonight wouldn't be any different._

_Further up ahead, two headlights appeared on the horizon. He was confident that at the speed he was going that he'd be able to keep the car on the right side of the two-lane highway. That was until a shadow appeared out of nowhere from the side of the road, bounding into his lane, moving with explosive speed from it's powerful hindquarters. But the animal wasn't quite fast enough and he slammed on the brakes, hoping to God that the deer wouldn't end up flying into his windshield._

_Thankfully, he missed the deer and it ran off into the dark landscape, but the hard braking car swerved with a mind of its own across the slick blacktop and he over-corrected, trying to steer the car away from the headlights that were now moving way too fast and way too close for him to get away from. _

_His reflexes, sluggish as they were, weren't quick enough to get out of the way on time and he could only watch in horror for the oncoming headlights bore down on him, it's horn blaring. The split second of realization that he was going to die seemed to last for an eternity. The headlights before him, careened in an evasive maneuver, but it was too late to avoid the inevitable. His world exploded in a furious noise of squeaking tires, twisting metal and fire._

Jerking awake with a gasp, Sam's hopes of going unnoticed during this trip were quickly dashed as several eyes, darted in his direction before, turning away again dispassionately to leave him to his misery. His embarrassment was only overshadowed by the lancing, searing pair that spiked into his head. It was a familiar pain, one he had come to hate and it left him without a doubt that the crash he had just witnessed in his dream was more than just a nightmare. It was another goddamned vision.

He blinked furiously against the throbbing and rubbed his hand to his forehead, praying that the pain would go away quickly this time. But, if anything it seemed worse than it ever had before.

Startled by the sudden awakening of the man beside of her, Alicia broke out of her shell out of concern and shyly asked "Are you alright?"

Taking his hand away from his head, he sighed and leaned his head back against the seat. "Yeah...just a little headache."

Glad for once that it was her time of the month, Alicia reached for her backpack under the seat and pulled it out, grabbing the bottle of advil she had stashed in there before leaving that day. She offered it over to him. "Here...I've got some Advil, if you want it."

He turned to her with a pained crease in his forehead, her heart lurched at the sight, his hazel eyes were even more beautiful now that she could get a good look at them.

"Thanks." He said as he took the bottle and shook out a couple of pills them swallowed them without the benefit of a drink to chase them down.

"Bad dream?" She asked tentatively.

"Something like that." His eyes took on a distant look as though he was trying to figure out a puzzle before him.

She could feel sympathy for him. She wasn't about to get into the dreams that had been plaguing her for the last few months, especially not about the ones she had been having about her Grandmother. The thought of it still sent chills up and down her spine.

For his part, Sam was trying to piece together what the vision meant. The location of the vision had been too vague for him to pinpoint other than it would happen on a two-lane highway somewhere and that it was dark and raining. He looked out the window to see that it was still dry and no rain was falling here and they appeared to be on a large interstate rather than a rural road. But still, he hadn't seen clearly the other vehicle that crashed with the drunk man, only the headlights. However, the could of it's horn still rang clearly in his head and it was definitely not a car horn, rather the horn from a very large vehicle, much like this bus.

There had to be some way of stopping it. Maybe he could talk to the driver, somehow steer him clear of any two-lane highways. He got up from his seat in determination. Somehow he knew in his heart of hearts that he had seen this bus crash and it was a warning to him that he needed to save the people and himself. How he was going to do was one thing he wasn't sure of, but he had to try.

He made his way up to the front of the bus, ignoring the irritated glances of those he brushed past. When he finally made it up all the way, he crouched beside the driver.

"Hey buddy, go back to your seat." The driver, a heavy-set man with a balding head ordered him. Sam brushed off the driver's annoyance and single-mindedly stayed put. Rain was just beginning to fall , splashing in fat droplets onto the windshield and Sam knew he had to work fast.

"Are you turning off onto any two-lane highways by chance?" He ventured to ask.

"What's it to ya?" The driver asked.

"I was just thinking that with the rain and all, it would be a lot safer to stay on the interstate, don't you?"

The driver snorted derisively. "Are you nuts or something, kid? Go sit back down." Up ahead an exit loomed and the driver veered the bus to the far right lane, his intention of turning off the interstate quite clear. Sam had to stop him.

"Look, just trust me...We have to stay on the interstate, I'm sure it's quicker anyway."

"Kid, if we stay on the interstate, that adds another 45 minutes to our drive and I for one, don't want to get chewed out for arriving late."

"Please." Sam was near begging. An idea popped into his head and he hoped that the driver understood the language of money. "I've got a couple hundred on me, it's all yours if we just stay on the interstate."

"A couple hundred, you say?" The driver asked, suddenly interested. "Let's see it."

Sam quickly fished into his pocket to find his wallet, but when he found nothing inside but lint he blanched. His wallet and his phone were gone. He had put them in his pocket out of haste for wanting to catch the bus on time, but someone must have snatched it. Most likely someone on this very bus. He cursed himself for being so careless.

"Well?" The driver asked impatiently.

"I promise...I'll pay you when we get to Lincoln."

"Yeah right. Why don't you shove it and get back to your seat or God so help me I'll stop this bus right now and kick you off."

Defeated, Sam was unsure of how to proceed and as the driver turned on his blinkers to indicate their exit from the interstate, he grew desperate.

"Please...you have to believe me... the highway isn't safe." He pleaded. Feeling a hand land tightly onto his shoulder, he spun around to see a man, taller than him in stature and heavily muscled.

"This guy bugging you, man?" He asked of the driver, gripping Sam's shoulder even tighter.

"Yeah, get him back to his seat, will ya?" Sam watched hopelessly as the bus driver took the off ramp.

"C'mon, buddy. You heard the man. Quit bugging him."

"You don't understand-" Sam tried to explain, but the big guy's hand squeezed even tighter and hauled him up, causing him to wince. He had half a mind to slug it out with him, even though he had to outweigh Sam by a good 40 pounds, but he was certain he could take him, he'd faced far worse than some backwaters bruiser before. However, things took on a life of their own and happened far too quickly for him to escape from after that.

Half dragging him down the isle to his seat, Sam tried to protest, but only seconds after the bus entered the smaller highway, the rain intensified and distracted by the hubbub, the driver failed to notice the car ahead of him careening out of control and skidding into his lane before it was already too late to do anything but honk his horn and try to swerve around it.

_TBC....._


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I still don't own any of these characters.

_A/N:Thanks to everyone for all of your kind reviews. I'm enjoying writing this story and hope to update again quickly. :D_

**Chapter 2**

He was too late.

Sam realized that things were playing out just as he had seen it. The bus lurched and the passengers on board reacted with startled shouts and gasps. One woman screamed as the impact hit the side of the bus. Sam was thrown from his feet and into the air, his head coming in contact with the ceiling with a sickening thud. As he was tossed about, the screams of the passengers were almost as deafening as the crash itself. The top heavy bus lurched and fell to its side on impact, skidding out of control on the pavement, sending spark shooting in all directions. It was one of those sparks that ignited the spilled gasoline from the bus' fuel tank.

When the bus finally came to a stop, dazed and confused, Sam looked about in horror at the scene. Smoke filled the cabin while bodies were strewn over sideways seats, people were bleeding and crying, some weren't moving at all. He looked to the front of the bus where he had been only moments before and nearly vomited seeing the wrecked and broken body of the clearly dead driver, crushed from the waist down against the steering wheel, his head lolling at an unnatural angle while open, dead eyes seemed to stare back at him through the rear-view mirror.

Through the haze of smoke and now fire, Sam knew he had to get out of there and so did the rest of these people. Ignoring the pain and muzziness in his head, he tried to unfold himself from his tangled position, climbing over seatbacks to see who he could reach first. While most of the still able-bodied people stood around in a daze, Sam had to get them to move and help those who were unable to help themselves.

"We need to get out of here" he shouted to the man who had previously been the one that was hauling him back to his seat before the crash. He looked to Sam, blood trickling down his face with a blank expression. "Help these people." He yelled as he grabbed the man around the collar to snap him out of his shock.

That seemed to do the trick as the man drew his eyes on Sam and nodded absently. Galvanized into action now, Sam made his way towards the rear exit, hoping the door would still open, however it was bend and impossible twisted, making escape from it a non-viable option. He looked to the front, the door also too smashed to exit from. With the bus on its side he had to climb over the seats to the opposite sides window, hoping that he could smash one of them open so they could all get out. He tried using his hand at first to open the window, but they were too heavy, so he wedged himself between a seat and the side of the window, using his back as leverage. Bending his knees, he got the bottoms of his feet to make contact with the window and he gave a mighty kick with both legs, having to smash at it several times before it began to crack and buckle. Finally, when the window was cracked enough he was able to push the remaining glass out in one sheet of safety glass.

Turning back around he shouted. "This way, everyone out!" Seeing a way to escape, several people pushed at each other in a desperate panic to reach the open air and Sam had to break some of them apart before the trampled each other. "One at a time!" He yelled.

Letting those that were able to make it out on their own accord get out he turned to the nearest injured passenger, a heavy-set woman in her late forties that appeared to be out cold. He felt for a pulse and finding it fast but steady, he attempted to haul her up to his shoulder. Gritting his teeth and fighting the nauseating effects of the smoke and his own battered head, he managed to get he up to the window where a couple of more even-headed individuals waited outside to take her from him.

The big-man that had been such a threat to Sam earlier was now his ally in picking up the injured passengers and had his own burden in his hands, dragging another man towards the window.

"There's another back there." The man shouted pointing to the back where Sam had himself once been seated. "One one more up front."

Flames were now licking the sides of the bus and were inching too close for comfort towards the girl he had been sitting next to before the crash. She was clearly unconscious and not responding when he shouted for her. The other passenger on board, a man nearing his own size, lay slumped in the front and he would have to come back for him as she was in more immediate danger.

He coughed as the acrid smoke filled his lungs and seared him from the inside out, but there was no stopping him. He crawled over the ruined seats and found her trapped between a fallen seat on the side of the bus that it landed on. Trying to lift the seat up himself, he found it to be impossibly stuck and with his head beginning to swim and eyes tearing up from the smoke, he was making too little progress. He cursed inwardly and turned around to see the other rescuer lowing his man out of the window.

"I need some help here!" He yelled to him. The other man turned to him, with fear in his eyes, staring at the flames licking closer and closer.

He shook his head. "It's gonna blow- forget it man. You need to get out."

"I'm not leaving her!" He shouted back, but the man was already hopping out the window to his own safety.

Knowing that he was on his own to save the girl, He allowed his adrenaline to take over and he pulled until his fingers bled against the bottom of the seat trapping her. He began to give a little and he felt his strength surge and with one more last bit of power, he managed to lift it enough to get her free. He had to use what was left of his remaining strength, pushing against burning muscles to pull her out. Once he finally accomplished that, he pushed her up to his shoulder and fought his way back to the window, to where the promise of fresh air awaited. The heat was nigh on intolerable as it felt like the flames of hell were set on consuming them, but he pushed on, forgetting his own pain, just desperate to get her out and save one more person.

It was as they neared the window that Alicia moaned and managed to pull her eyes open. The sight of fire and carnage all about her as she hung upside down, had her struggling with sudden panic. She fought against the arms the held her, only wanting to break free and run from the nightmare, but she was held fast until strong arms settled her down near an open window.

Wide awake now, she locked eyes with her rescuer as he pushed her towards the opening. It was the man she had been sitting next to, the man with the impossibly perfect face, but now it was marred with soot and blood trickling from a gash in his forehead. It was the face of her hero and she realized that she hadn't even asked his name.

She resisted being taken from him, but he firmly and gently lifted her up to help her out of the burning bus.

"You gotta go...you'll be safe." He urged her with pleading eyes. She held onto those eyes and saw the determination in them.

"What about you?" She cried.

"I'll be right out in a sec."

She could feel hands grabbing her from outside the bus and was powerless to stop them from taking her away from her savior.

Once outside, a large man took hold of her waist and led her away from the wreckage to safety. She heard her seat companion yell out that there was still one left on the bus. The man who had been helping her, put her down near the other crying and shell-shocked group of survivors then ran back to the bus.

"You gotta get out of there, man. This thing's gonna explode!"

She looked on in horror as she saw the flames eating away at the husk of what had once been a bus and she knew the big man was right. The bus was set to burst at any moment, the fire was too close to the fuel tank for it last much longer.

Sam ignored the protests of the man from outside and worked his way across the length of the isle once more to the man that sat slumped in the front. He could feel the energy being sapped from him as the smoke grew more dense. He spat and coughed until he reached the man, his lungs burning from the acrid fumes. Looking down, he found that trying to save the guy was beyond his capability. A huge chunk of metal had embedded itself into the man's skull and sightless eyes stared out into the distance.

Knowing now that he was the only left alive on the bus, his own self-preservation instincts kicked in. Blinded now by the black smoke, he struggled to find purchase amongst the overturned seats and he had to feel his way back towards the end of the bus that held his chance for getting out. He knew his time was running out, the thing could explode at any moment and he had to fight his way through if he was going to make it. His vision swirled and his head ached with exhaustion from the overpowering smoke making knees buckle under the weight of his legs. Hitting the deck of the bus isle he landed on his hands into an all-fours position. His head hung, he was completely spent. His lungs cried out for fresh air as he hacked and coughed. Somehow, deep down he had to find that last bit of remaining strength to get out. He was a Winchester after all; pigheadedness had saved him and his family on too many times to count and he sought for that stubbornness again from within.

He had to snort a little bit at that, despite his current circumstances. Dean would have a aneurysm if he knew what he was doing right now and would kill him if he died. It was that galvanizing thought that helped him to find the strength within to get off the floor and reach the window, throwing his legs over the edge of the opening. Just as he was about to jump out a hiss and tell-tale whine erupted from behind him. In a explosion of noise and wind, he felt himself being launched airborne as fire flew about in all directions. He felt the heat of the flames hit him from behind and heard the screams of his fellow passengers before the world ended for him in a flash of white-hot pain and nothingness.

OOOOO

The darkness was all around him save for the light that shone from the shop light that dangled from open hood of his car and Dean was reaching the end of his tether. He tossed another useless part into the pile of other useless parts he had been sorting through and pulled out his phone once more, checking to see if Sam might have called and he just hadn't heard it ring. Chagrined to see that there were no missed calls or messages he snapped it shut and swore.

Goddammit if his little brother wasn't a stubborn bastard at times. Here he was trying to hold everything together while he went off on his little pity party. Would it have killed the kid to give him a call and at least let him know he was still alright?

Sure, Sam had pressed every one of his buttons in the last few weeks, but that still didn't negate the fear that he felt for him. Especially after what his dad had asked of him. Looking after Sam he could do, hell he'd been doing it all his life, but the other?....no way in hell. No way he was ever gonna hurt his brother, let alone kill him. It was unthinkable, he'd kill every last demon on earth before that would ever happen. That thought alone sent him spiraling again into another rage.

He had loved his dad dearly and would do anything to see him one more time, but the man had placed an unfair burden on his shoulders with that request. Who the hell was he to leave him behind with that and leave him in this world where danger and demons all had their eyes focused on his little brother.

Hell, he shouldn't even be alive and that was his dad's fault too.

Nothing was as it should be.

Grabbing a dirty rag, he wiped the grease that had accumulated on his hands and then dabbed at the sweat that dripped into his eyes. He had to believe that Sam could take care of himself. He had for four years while he went off to college, so why was he so worried about a little road trip? However comforting that thought was, he still couldn't put past the niggle of worry that he held inside. Sam wasn't the same man he was just over a year ago before Dean had pulled him back into this messed-up life. He was a target now with his freaky abilities and despite the fact that he wanted to punch the kid's lights out sometimes, he wasn't about to let anything get at him.

Hearing the all-too familiar crunch of gravel behind him, Dean whirled to see Bobby walking up to him in that slow, measured gait that told him that he was just a little leery of being around the youngster lately. Dean hadn't meant to chew Bobby's ass out for letting Sam go on his stupid jaunt out to retrieve their dad's truck. He had just needed someone to take his frustrations out on and Bobby just happened to be in the cone of destruction that followed his inevitable explosion.

Seeing the mess of parts strewn about, Bobby had come to conclude that Dean wasn't going to be making it to bed anytime soon.

"It's almost midnight, you going to get some sleep tonight?"

"I'm busy." Dean replied shortly.

Bobby was close to the end of his rope as well and threw up his arms, giving up his attempt to see that the kid actually got some rest that night.

Trying to divert the conversation from anything Sam related, Dean asked. "You wouldn't happen to have any more spare carburetors around here would you? These are all junk."

"Looks like you got the lot them there."

"Damn." Dean just muttered, picking up one and inspecting it, hoping that he could at least find one that might work. Bobby wasn't really falling for the whole deflection thing, but for the sake of keeping the peace, he held his tongue.

Dean felt a buzzing in his pocket just before the tune to Metallica's 'Master of Puppets' sounded off. Recognizing the ring as being specific for Sam, he breathed a quick sigh of relief as he pulled the phone out and answered, speaking before his brother could even get a chance to say anything.

"S'bout time you called. This is some stupid, shitty stunt you've pulled here, Sam. By God when you get back I am so going to kick your ass-"

Bobby watched as Dean's face switched from fury to fright in the space of a heartbeat. The color drained from his face as it fell and his hand trembled as he held the phone to his ear.

"Yeah...I'm his brother....You...you're sure?" He asked, the quiver in his voice unmistakable as his eyes shot to Bobby. "W-Where is this at? Norfolk? I'll be there as soon as I can."

Dean let the phone fall from his ear to hang loosely in his hand, dropping it to his side. His eyes took on a faraway look, holding in them a pain that Bobby would never be able to describe.

"What is it?" He asked, becoming more and more concerned with Dean's reaction to the call.

Dean visibly gulped past the lump growing in his throat and the constriction he felt swelling up in his chest. Bobby felt his stomach sink to his knees and do a flip-flop at Dean's obvious distress

"Uh..." He finally managed to speak after a moment, his brain still trying to process the unbelievable information he had just been given. "That was the morgue in Norfolk, Nebraska. There was an accident and....and they found Sam's phone and wallet on a body that matches the description on his license...they want me to come down and.... identify him."

TBC.....


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Wow! I'm overwhelmed by everyone's reviews and I thank each and everyone one of you that are following along. I love hearing what you think of this. :D  
_

**Chapter 3**

Dr. Carla Ashmore hung up the phone and placed it back inside of a plastic, Ziploc bag for his family, surprised that it was still working after the accident that had claimed three lives. At least it and the wallet had been saved the full brunt of the fire by being in the back pocket of the man's pants or otherwise she wouldn't have known who to call for him. She didn't normally call the family of those that came into her morgue on their own phones, but seeing that there had been a number of messages left on it from someone named Dean, she figured that it had to be someone close to the man lying on the slab beside of her, so she had decided to expedite matters and called the number. She hadn't expect to be chewed out the moment the phone answered, but people could get pretty testy when they get worried about someone not calling them back, especially family members.

Lifting up the half-burned wallet, she looked at the driver's license inside, remarking how it had managed to remained virtually unscathed save for some melting around the edges and compared the face on it to the body. He was a nice looking man from his picture, but it was tough to say that now as the fire had burned off his hair, half of his face and on top of that, the jagged piece of metal sticking out of his forehead made identification difficult. Initially, his height and approximate weight were a match to that described on the license, yet she would need the guy's family to take a look and confirm that it was indeed Sam Morrison.

She tucked the license back into the wallet and placed into the bag along with the phone and a few other personal items found on the body. It was a sad thing seeing someone so young snuffed out like this, but she had seen death come to people of all ages for years now and was hardened to its effects. Death was as much a part of life as breathing; everyone had to face it sooner or later was what she always thought.

The identity of the bus driver was already confirmed as was the body of the driver of the car that had caused the crash in the first place. It was obvious from just the whiskey and beer smell of his corpse alone, what had caused the crash. The man had been too drunk to be driving and had taken two others with him to the grave.

She shook her head. Just another Friday night at work, she mused.

OOOOO

"It can't be him...it can't." Dean repeated with a shake of his head, murmuring a now familiar mantra to the older man sitting beside of him.

As much as he didn't want to believe it either, Bobby was busy bracing himself for the worst and burned up the miles in his old truck as fast as they could. He just prayed that there wasn't a cop around to catch them doing 30 miles over the speed limit or that his old clunker wouldn't give out on them before they got there. Not knowing whether it was Sam laying dead in that morgue might just send Dean over the edge. As it was he was barely hanging on. Stealing a quick glance at Dean, whose jaw muscles worked visibly through his skin as he ground his teeth, made Bobby feel eaten up with guilt since it had been him that had let Sam take off like he had in the first place.

Damn, but those boys weren't his world. Losing John had been bad enough, but Sam? It was almost too much to bear thinking about. If he was barely holding back the grief he felt tearing him up inside, how much worse was Dean feeling right now?

Dean also willed the miles to fly by. Bobby wouldn't let him drive in the state he was in, but he just wished he could, if anything to distract him from the black thoughts swirling in his mind. Sam couldn't be dead. It defied everything he felt to be true. He was supposed to keep him safe, it was his one job and lately he'd been really crappy at it. He had pushed Sam away one time too many and now there might never be any reconciliation. Even worse still, was Sam might have died thinking that he had hated him, that he didn't want him around. It wasn't true of course, but he had needed to keep him at arm's length, that if he had opened up to his little brother that he might let it spill the last words his father had spoken to him and that had been a burden he hoped to keep from Sam.

_Save Sam or you might have to kill him._

And now Sam was dead and it was his pushing that had sent him away.

_Stop it!_ He yelled at himself inside his head. _Sam is _not_ dead._

"Can't this piece of junk go any faster?" Dean asked yet again.

"Sorry, but this thing was exactly made for speed. I'm going as fast as I can." Bobby replied not unsympathetically.

Dean growled in frustration. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. He had just gotten his family back together and now they were both gone-

_No!_ He took that thought back again.. Sam was _not_ gone... he couldn't be. He held fast to that thought and refused to let it go, but why then could he not stop thinking that he had already lost him?

OOOOO

Alicia was still shaking. The night had passed into morning as she sat in her hospital bed, waiting to be discharged and she counted her blessing. She had been lucky. Only a few bruises and some smoke inhalation had been the physical toll on her body, but inside, she still felt like a bowl full of jello.

One thing that had occupied her thoughts more than the accident itself was the eyes of the man that had saved her. He had held a kindness and determination in them that she couldn't describe. He was different. Far more so than anyone else she had ever met, she couldn't quite explain how, but she felt there was a bond there, like his life was somehow attached to hers now. It had to be fate, him being on that bus, there to rescue her in her time of greatest need. There was just no other way to think than it was just meant to be.

And when the explosion had occurred and she saw him flying through the air. She had been beside herself with grief. She hardly knew the man, but thinking that he had just been killed in front of her eyes had been like someone cutting a knife into her very soul.

She was just so thankful that when she woke up after passing out from witnessing him land on his head in a way she was certain no one could survive, that she saw the paramedics working on him. So, he had to still be alive. She had bugged the nurses over and over again to give her any information about him, but they had all been tight-lipped and wouldn't let her get up from her hospital bed until the doctor had given her the all-clear.

Now that the doctor had told her that she was free to leave after she signed her discharge papers, she was itching to go and see the man that had saved her life. And after she had finished doing just that, she wasted little time getting dressed and hurrying to find out all she could about him.

It took some cajoling and some time to find someone that was sympathetic enough to her plight to help her locate her missing hero, but at last, she discovered that there was a John Doe from the crash last night in ICU.

"I'm sorry, but only family is allowed into the ward." She had been told by one crotchety old nurse at the ICU reception desk.

"But, please. He saved my life. I need to see him." He first impressions of the nurse being a hard-assed bitch, faded as the older woman took on a softer demeanor and sighed.

"Oh, alright, but you can only stay for a few minutes and don't tell anyone that I let you in."

"Thank you, thank you." She beamed until the nurse showed her the bed where her new-found savior lay. He was white as a sheet and had equipment hooked up to him and line and tubes sprouted from his arms like branches from a tree.

"Oh God..." She breathed. "Is he going to make it?" Her heart dropped thinking that she was going to lose the best thing that had happened to her in her life.

"He should pull through. He suffered some severe smoke inhalation and a concussion, but hopefully he should wake up soon. He's strong and young, so he has that on his side."

"So, he's going to be okay?"

"Hope so. We're just going to keep him here in ICU until he wakes up as a precaution."

Relief washed over her and Alicia moved closer to his side, daring to sneak her hand into his lax one.

"Wake up soon." She whispered a plea to him. "I'll be waiting for you."

OOOOO

As they pulled into the parking lot of the morgue, the sun was just beginning to peak above the horizon, beautiful golden rays of light danced merrily across the landscape, but Dean really could have cared less. His mood was too dark for it matter how pretty the sunrise or the rest of the world was at that moment, he only cared about proving that Sam wasn't dead.

Bobby killed the engine and turned around in his seat to Dean. "You okay to do this?"

"I gotta know it's not him." Dean stared ahead at the building looming before them without looking at the concerned man beside him. It was a simple brick building that one might find in Anytown, USA, but to him it was more frightening than any haunted house he had ever stepped foot in.

Bobby nodded grimly and gave Dean a quick squeeze of the shoulder. There was no way this was going to be easy, but the sooner that got it over with, the sooner they would know Sam's fate for sure.

"C'mon. I'll be with you the whole time" Dean turned his eyes on Bobby, and nodded absently, looking far older than a young man his age ever should. Bobby slid out of the truck with Dean following close behind.

The younger man felt like he was walking on legs made of jelly, as though they could barely sustain his weight as they entered the facility. They walked up to a desk where a pinched faced receptionist typed away on her computer.

Bobby cleared his throat to grab her attention and after a few moments of continued typing, she glanced up and greeted them.

"Can I help you?" She asked

"We're here about my brother-" Dean started with a hitch and couldn't find his voice to go on.

"What's his name?"

"Sam Morrison." Bobby replied for him. Dean's thoughts flashed back to the current license he had made for Sam not too long ago. His little brother had balked at the alias, but Dean had kidded him about looking like Jim Morrison with his hair all long and shaggy as it was. He had always joked about Sam's obsession with keeping his hair so ridiculously long, but right then he'd give anything it and the man that wore it again.

She nodded. "Dr. Ashmore will be with you in a few minutes. Go ahead and have a seat."

They sat and waited for what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only about ten minutes and Dean was growing antsy with each passing second. He just wanted to get this over and done with, prove that it wasn't Sam and then go find his brother.

He took up pacing a groove in the floor rather than sitting in the plastic chairs of the waiting area until a petite, middle aged woman walked up to them, a chart in one hand. "Mr. Morrison?" She asked.

"Yeah." Dean stopped, feeling his heart skip a beat.

"If you'd follow me please, to my office." She led the way down a short corridor and into a small office with stacks of papers piled high next to a wood desk. She took a seat and bade Dean and Bobby to have a seat.

"I know this must be a difficult task for you and I that identifying a loved one's remains can be a harrowing experience, so I'll try to keep this as painless as possible." She reached for a chart and pulled out a glossy photograph. "I have a photo of the man we believe is your brother. I have to warn you though, there has been a lot of damage done to the body and recognition may be difficult. If you're not able to identify him, then we may need to get his dental records or perform DNA tests."

She handed the photo to Dean across the desk and he took it wordlessly with a slight quiver in his hand. Bobby watched the blood drain from his face and peered over the young man's shoulder to get a view of himself. Immediately he wished he hadn't.

It was a grisly sight. Hair burned completely away and skin charred black in places, his mouth hung open as if held in a nightmarish scream for all eternity while a large, gaping hole marred the center of his forehead. Dean shook his head at the sight, then sighed audibly in relief while he closed his eyes and thanked Sam's guardian angel. The man in the photo was definitely not his little brother.

"It's not him." He breathed, his heart thumping wildly in his chest, doing its best to break out of the confines of his ribs.

"Are you absolutely certain, Mr. Morrison?" the doctor asked.

"I know every freckle on my brother, ma'am, that's sure not him. The nose is too wide, eyes are too close together.... My brother's still alive out there somewhere."

OOOOOO

Alicia managed to finagle her way with the nurses into being allowed to stay longer with her hero. She wished she had a name to put with him, but he had never told her it, so in her mind she just called him 'hero'.

She had found a chair some hours ago and was now dedicated to staying by his side until he woke up. She fought off the fatigue that chased after her and forced her eyes to remain open as she held his hand tight. When he finally began to stir, her tiredness was completely forgotten and she leaned in, hoping beyond hope that he would just open his eyes.

Fighting against the pain that coursed through his head and all over his body, the pull to stay inside the cottony confines of sleep was losing it's hold on him. Heavy weights seemed to be attached to his eyelids, but he pried them open despite of that, confusion taking hold over the pain as he came to the conclusion that he had no idea where he was.

Fuzzy images hit him. Fire and a feeling a dread was all he could recall, everything else was a blur, as was the sight of the person sitting next to him, holding his hand. He felt the grip tighten around his and when a woman's voice began to speak, his confusion grew in leaps and bounds.

Who was she? He tried to focus his vision, though it caused his head to explode in agony. Pushing away the pain for the time being, he managed to get a clear enough picture of the girl to see that he had no clue who she was.

"Who are you?" he had to ask, feeling the dry, scratchiness of his throat begin to cause a chain reaction of sorts that left his coughing and panting for air. What the hell had happened, why did it feel like a half-ton weight was crushing his chest and more importantly, where the hell was he and where was Dean? His breathing grew shallower and panic assailed, he couldn't breathe!

Alicia's elation at seeing his eyes open quickly gave into to fear as he struggled to breathe and monitors went off in frenzy of beeping alarms. "I need some help here!" She called out but the nurse that had first allowed her into the ward was already on her way.

She still held onto his hand when suddenly she was hit with a series of images. She saw him as a child, felt his pain and fear as monsters chased after him, watched in shocked horror as a pretty young girl was pinned and bleeding to a ceiling while fire exploded all around her, then she saw a man lying on a hospital floor, and felt a cup of coffee slipping from his fingers as fear again gripped him and he ran to him. All of this in the space of a heartbeat and she gasped as though struck by a bolt of lightening.

She let go of his hand in shock and pulled away as though his fear was her own, his memories her memories. A stabbing pain assaulted her temples. _Oh God,_ she groaned to herself,_ not again._

As the nurse pushed her aside, she barely heard the woman demand that she leave the room and let her help the man that had saved her life. On shaky legs she numbly made her way out to the corridor, breathing catching in her throat as could no longer hold back the tears. She leaned back against the safety of the wall and let her knees buckle, sliding her back down the wall until she sat on the floor in a heap of sobs. The things she had just seen tore at her more than the physical pain. Fear, sadness, his feelings of being pushed away, of rejection by the ones he held most dear- He was so much like her....

OOOOO

"Thanks." Flipping his phone closed as he walked, Dean turned to Bobby, his eyes taking on an air of steadfast determination. The coroner had explained that the majority of the victims had been taken to the hospital in town and they should check there first.

"Well?"

"There's a John Doe up at the hospital here in town. I gotta bad feeling Bobby, if he didn't give them a name we'd recognize, he must be hurt bad."

Bobby nodded. "Then we best get goin'. Where's the hospital?" Dean was already to the truck and pulling open the door.

"Downtown." Dean replied.

Bobby gunned the accelerator and went as fast as possible without getting pulled over and made it to the hospital in what had to be record time for his old rust bucket. Dean practically sprinted out of the vehicle as soon as they parked and Bobby had to huff and puff to catch up with him. Dean was already at the reception desk and arguing with a nurse by the time he made it inside and had to place a restraining arm on the younger man before he reached over the counter and did something stupid to the poor girl.

"C'mon...how long can it possibly take to find one guy?" Dean asked, hoping to hurry the receptionist up in finding his brother.

"I'm going as fast as I can, sir." She typed away and clicked a few more times on her mouse before she finally found a patient listed as a John Doe. She hurried to find where he was, hoping to get the man standing across from her with the reddening, angry face away from her as soon as possible. She sighed in relief when she found a location to give him.

"He's in ICU, but it looks like there are orders to transfer him to a regular room. Also looks like they got a name for him now. Samuel Hagar? Is that him?"

Dean grinned and the poor receptionist let go of the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. "That's our boy." He hit the man beside him on the chest with the back of his hand, his smile lighting up his face. "C'mon, Bobby."

She watched them go, thinking that the younger man was quite handsome when he wasn't so angry.

OOOOO

Sam was breathing much easier now, the panic and confusion of his first waking moments had receded and he was glad when they switched him from the oppressive oxygen mask to the smaller nasal cannula. After the nurses and doctors had finally stopped their hovering, he looked around, wondering if he had imagined the girl that had been by his bedside when he woke up. She was nowhere to be seen and soon he was distracted again by a doctor asking questions such as his name and what day it was, who was the president and so on, your standard head injury checklist that he'd been through before on more than one occasion. When he answered all the questions to the satisfaction of the doctor, he was pleased to be told that he would be moved to a regular room as soon as one was available.

Despite the constant pounding of the anvil beating on in his brain, he was determined to get out of there sooner rather than later and get a call out to Dean. Boy, his brother was gonna be pissed at the pile of shit he got himself knee deep into this time.

His mind however was still thick and fuzzy. He struggled to recall what had happened, but could come up with nothing more than vague feelings and brief snatches of images that didn't make any sense. He had been told by one of the nurses that he had been involved in a bus accident and that he was in Norfolk, Nebraska, but the last thing he could remember clearly was packing his bag and telling Bobby he needed to leave. However, how he had ended up on that bus without a lick of identification or his cell phone was all still a mystery to him.

He was still pondering all of this when he spied a shy figure hovering by the door.

"Hey...you were here before, weren't you?" He asked the girl.

"Yeah...sorry...I uh...just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Uh...thanks..." He came back awkwardly. He wasn't sure how, but she did seem familiar to him. "Do I know you?"

"My name's Alicia...We were on the bus together..."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I don't remember what happened."

"It's okay. The nurse said you might not. But you should know, you saved my life....and a whole bunch of others too." She walked tentatively into the room, a smile beginning to light up her face as he beckoned her in. "You were really amazing."

Sam blushed and hid his eyes at the praise, feeling weird for doing something he couldn't even remember. "I'm sure, whatever I did, I did because I had to."

"Well, I'm sure glad you were there or wouldn't be standing here now."

"I'm glad you're okay then." Sam met her eyes and she beamed at him in adoration, something he was a little uncomfortable with. The was something different about the girl, but what it was he couldn't put a name to the feeling, but it was somewhat...unsettling? Thinking that he still had to be a little out of from all of the medication he was on and the drumbeat still marking time in his head, he pushed those thoughts aside. She had made the effort to see him and make sure he was alright, so he erred on the side of politeness.

"I'm Sam, by the way." He introduced himself and held out his hand.

"Sam..." She repeated, letting his name roll around her tongue like a sweet piece of candy. She smiled even wider, feeling a swelling begin in her chest. The name suited him, she decided. Only a short time ago, she had seen a glimpse into this man's soul and despite all of the pain and hardship she had seen, she was amazed by how he was still concerned for her.

Snapping out of her momentary fugue, she finally realized that he was still holding out his hand for her to shake it. She glanced down at it, remembering what had happened the last time she had held it and her smile dropped and she felt the blood drain from her face. As much as she longed to touch him again, she feared what would happen if she did. If he knew what a freak on nature she was, he wouldn't want anything else to do with her. Just like her Grandmother.

"You okay?" He asked with genuine concern, seeing her pale before him. She began to breathe a little faster and Sam wondered what he had done to cause such a reaction.

"I'm sorry...sorry...I gotta go." She shook her head and backed away from him as though he was contagious with the bubonic plague and beat a hasty retreat from the room.

Sam lowered his hand in confusion. He didn't think that he had done anything wrong, but maybe she was just shy. Either way, it was a little strange and left a niggling feeling again that something wasn't quite normal about her.

All his thoughts were forgotten moments later when an orderly walked in and announced that he would be moving him to his new room in the general ward. He was grateful to get out of that place, he really needed to get into a room that had a phone. His ruminations on the strange visit with Alicia were soon replaced by the new fear he developed knowing the shit storm that was coming his way when he told Dean where he was.

OOOOO

Alicia felt so stupid. What had she been thinking running out of that room? She had totally freaked out on him and now her Sam probably thought she was the creepiest person he ever met. She huddled near a corner and let the tears fall again. God, how had her life become so screwed up?

Just a few months ago, she was a normal, if not a little introverted young woman. But then weird things had just started happening to her: strange dreams, unwanted feelings she would pick up from people and then the came day when her Grandmother fell ill.

The woman that had raised her after mother died since she was a baby had been dying. She had never been kind to Alicia growing up, she was abusive verbally and physically and she still wore the scars to prove it. Deep down she knew the woman somehow blamed her for being rescued from the house fire that that had killed her mother and she hadn't been afraid to take it out on Alicia. If it hadn't been for a quick thinking neighbor, she would have died too, but all her grandmother could see when she looked at her was a poor substitute for her own daughter. Even though she grew up with the hurt of knowing she was unloved by the one person she counted on the most, she still took care of her Grandmother when she fell ill with cancer. Feeding her bathing her, changing her when she soiled herself and still her Grandmother cursed at her and pushed her way. Her bitterness new no bounds.

It was while she was visiting in her in the hospital that last day that she dared to grab hold of her grandmother's hand, wanting to give her one last measure of comfort before she died and hoping for some kind of show of affection to be returned. But what had happened instead was the blast of images. Scenes from her childhood, her marriage, the pain of losing her husband to a heart attack, then the grief of seeing her only child taken from her much too soon. She saw the resentment her grandmother felt at being sidled with Alicia, felt her anger at the unfairness of it all and the anger she dealt out towards her granddaughter. All this came tumbling towards her like a freight train, slamming into her at intolerable speeds.

It had hit her so hard, that she passed out immediately afterward only to wake up to a huddle of nurses surrounding her and grandmother laying dead on the bed beside her.

It was then that she knew that she needed to get as far away as possible. Her grandmother had left her the house, but it was too hard to go back to after all that she saw, knowing that she had truly been so unloved. So it sat empty now back in South Dakota. A day after she put it up on the market, she decided to head south, anywhere but that place, and bought that fateful bus ticket.

She was still silently crying into her sleeve when she heard a sound of wheels turning. Looking up she saw an orderly pushing Sam's bed out of the ward. They were moving him away from her, but she wasn't about to lose him, not yet.

She felt an unbreakable bond to him now and whether or not he felt it too, she had to make sure that she didn't lose him too. Admittedly, she knew that what she was feeling was love for her Sam. She would have to make him see that she cared about him, that she would do anything for him, that she felt his pain, knew the heartbreak he felt and that they were meant to be together. Forever.

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thanks again for all of your feedback. I'm sorry there was so much Alicia in the last chapter, I was establishing her back story as she's going to be the antagonist in upcoming chapters You'll find out soon that she's a few cookies shy of a dozen. Sorry, this chapter's a little short, but the next one will be quite long. Let me know if this is a hit or a miss, good or bad, I love to hear from you.:D_

**Chapter 4**

Though he sported a major headache, was filled to the gills with painkillers and his chest echoed with rattling coughs at intermittent intervals, the moment he was settled into his new room, Sam ignored his dizziness and sat up, reaching for the phone. Taking a steadying breath against the tirade he was sure to have unleashed against him, he knew he had to do this. He dialed Dean's number and waited with baited breath for him to answer.

It was to his surprise when he heard the familiar Metallica ring tone bouncing off the walls of the hallway outside his door. _Man,_ he thought, _maybe I'm tripping on the drugs worse than I thought._ A moment later, the man he was trying to call burst into the room.

"Oh, thank God..." Dean breathed, throwing back his head, his shoulder's sagged and a sigh of relief escaped his lips seeing Sam in the flesh.

"Dean?!" Sam looked up in astonishment, eyes wide in confusion, phone receiver still in his hand. "Dude, that was fast."

The look of sheer joy on his brother's face was short-lived however as his face took on a whole new expression. It was a face Sam was becoming all too familiar with since their dad had died; it was one of barely restrained anger.

"Goddammit, Sam." He walked into the room and straight up to Sam's bed, taking in the bruises and cuts that covered his little brother's face and the oxygen tube that snaked underneath his nose. He was relieved as hell that he seemed to be doing okay, yet at the same time, mad as hell for making him think for even the briefest of moments that he was dead. He was torn at once between hugging him or hitting him, so he held back from doing either. "Don't ever do this shit to me again. Do you know what I've just been through?"

"Good to see you too, Dean." Sam replied, bewildered, finally settling the phone back on it's cradle. Feeling a little dizzy and overwhelmed, Sam flopped back down to his pillow. The inevitable ass-chewing he was expecting was upon him far sooner than he had expected. A spot behind his eyes began to throb in time to the pounding in his head.

It was just then that Bobby made it into the room as well, looking a little red in the face from trying to keep up with Dean. He cursed his advancing age and the loss of the youthful vigor that Dean took for granted, but Bobby wasn't afraid to let his gladness show at seeing Sam alive and relatively well. He walked right over to the injured young man and bent down to squeeze him until Sam coughed a little at the constriction.

"Ah, Sam....You gave us the worst scare of our lives, boy."

"What's going on?" Sam asked in confusion as soon as Bobby let go of him. "How did you guys get here so fast? I just woke up a few hours ago and I don't think anyone knew who I was before that."

"Oh, I'll tell you what's going on." Dean began with an edge to his voice and a death glare at Sam that seemed to go right through to his soul "Your ass-addled brain decided to take a little road trip without even bothering to let me know and lo-and-behold just a few hours later, I get a call, but it's not from you, instead it's some coroner chick telling me that she has your body down in a morgue!"

Sam looked to his brother, his eyebrows raising high into his forehead, finding it hard to believe the news Dean was telling.

"You thought I was dead?"

"Yeah, thank God you're not so I can thoroughly whoop your ass as soon as you get better for making me think that you were."

"Sorry...it's not like I wanted to get into a bus accident!" Sam came back, once again feeling like a major screw-up even when he couldn't even remember what had happened.

"No? Well maybe not, but some Kentucky-fried dead guy still had your wallet and your phone. Now how did that happen, Sam?"

Sam threw up his arms in exasperation, his headache beginning to double. "I don't even know, Dean. I don't remember a th-" Sam's last word was cut off by a sudden, unexpected cough, which refused to go away until he was nearly choking on the phlegm and gunk that was trying to expel itself from his lungs. He struggled to catch his breath as tears sprang from his eyes uncontrollably and rolled down his cheeks.

"Sam!" Bobby grew alarmed and helped Sam to sit up. Cutting off his tirade, Dean felt all of his anger disappear in a heartbeat at seeing his brother go red in the face. Forgetting the heat of his words, he helped Bobby to get Sam up into an easier position to breathe. Giving his back a few firm pats to help dislodge the mucus that must had been building up after his escape from the fire.

Feeling more than just a little guilty, Dean spoke softer this time around. "God, Sammy...just relax...try to breathe."

Sam finally managed to bring up the gunk from his lungs into a tissue Bobby had grabbed and Dean made a disgusted face as Sam felt himself being lowered back down to the pillow.

"Ewww, Dude, that's really gross." Dean remarked as he took the tissue from him, threw it away and handed him a glass of water. His protective instincts for his younger sibling taking over.

As soon as he was able to catch his breath again and get a couple swallows of the water down, Sam came back with a "Yeah well, just be thankful I didn't hock it on you."

Dean allowed a chagrined ghost of a smile curl his upper lip knowing that Sam couldn't be too bad off if he could still crack a little snide remark at him.

Bobby could feel Dean's mood shifting and felt it safe to leave the two boys alone for a few minutes so they could talk. "I think I'll go and get us some coffee, eh Dean?"

"Yeah, Bobby, thanks. Sounds good." As soon as he left the room, Dean settled into a chair beside the bed and crossed one leg over the other before leaning back with a sigh.

"Look man," Dean began, opening up had never been an easy thing for Dean and apologizing was even worse, but thankfully, Sam could read his expression and further words weren't necessary.

"It's okay. I guess it was pretty stupid up and leaving like that. I just thought that some time away from each other would do us both some good. I needed a little head-space and so did you."

"Sam, I know I ain't easy to get along with on a good day and these last few weeks.... but how 'bout next time you want a get away from me, you go for a walk or get your nails painted instead of leaving the friggin' state and nearly getting your ass killed, 'kay?"

"Sure, I'll keep that in mind. All except the nails part." Sam gave Dean a rueful grin, feeling suddenly very dizzy, achy and exhausted from the coughing fit and his brother's unexpected entrance, He felt his eyelids begun to slip as he spoke back, sleepily. "Sorry, Dean...Sorry 'bout everything..." Letting his voice trail off, his mind kept going long after his lips had stilled._ 'Sorry about taking off, sorry about dad, sorry I can't seem to help you anymore.....'_

OOOOO

After the crabby man with the trucker's hat had left the room, Alicia dared to tread closer and look in from a distance where she wouldn't be observed. Watching the talk between the two brothers, she heard the pain in Sam's voice as they spoke and she could almost feel the anger radiating off the body of his brother, Dean. She decidedly took a dislike to Sam's brother, he couldn't see how deeply he was wounding his own brother with his harsh words and she nearly hated him for making him feel so pushed away and abandoned.

Dean stood up from his chair once Sam had closed his eyes and spoke to his sleeping brother. "Get some sleep, I'm gonna see the Doc and find out when we can spring ya."

"'Kay" replied Sam softly. She watched him sink into oblivion as Dean left the room, but she hadn't taken the caution to back away from the door in time and she found herself being barreled into by the tall and muscular man. She had to grab onto his arms to keep herself from falling and he held onto her too, stammering a profuse apology. But she heard none of it, instead she felt herself being swept away in a tidal wave of memories and emotions. She saw snippets of his life, the things he had done, the things he had killed, the blood, the gore, the violence, she felt his anger and resentment at even being alive, she saw a body burning on a pile of wood and then she heard the words of another man's voice ringing in her ears: _You may have to kill Sam._

She fell to her knees, pain lancing through her head. It was as if those words were the only thing running through his head. She backed away in horror, not even hearing the man beside asking her if she was okay. He had murder on his mind- He was thinking about killing Sam!

She backed away from him. "Leave me alone!" She gasped as he helped her up, pushing him away. Not knowing what else to do, she only knew she had to get away from him, so she jumped to her feet and ran.

OOOOO

Dean watched in stunned confusion as the young woman he had just ran into, pushed away from him and fled down the corridor. _Jeez, what a freak_, he thought to himself, wondering if the psych ward was just around the corner.

Brushing off the strange encounter as just that, a weird accident, he made off to find the doctor in charge of Sam's care. He knew Sam had been through worse spells and knowing his brother as soon as he woke up from his nap, he'd be itching to get out of there and back to Bobby's. Dean himself, was anxious to get him back as well, back where he could keep a closer eye on him and getting him back to his usual brooding self.

As much as he had wanted Sam to leave him alone the last couple of weeks, he couldn't help the protective side of his nature take over. His little brother was his responsibility, always had been and always will be. Despite his father's warning, he wasn't about to that bastard demon turn Sam to the dark side, not on his watch.

With the help of one of the nurses at the reception desk, Dean was able to track down a Dr. Chen, the doctor in charge of Sam's stay and stopped him in the hallway. Though the short, Asian man looked perturbed at being kept from his other patients, Dean made it quite clear to the guy that he wasn't going to stop bugging him until he had the answers he wanted.

"So, tell me doc, what're the damages here- can Sam go home soon?"

With a sigh of resignation the doctor pulled out a chart and scanned down it. "Well, it looks like your brother's O2 stats are improving and his CAT scans were clear. He's going to be in some considerable pain from the concussion, but perhaps by tomorrow morning I'll see about getting him discharged. But just to be on the safe side, I'd like to keep him in observation for one more night."

Sam wasn't going to like that, he mused, but he'd be damned it he let him go before the doctor was sure he was safe to travel.

" I have to ask you though," The doctor continued. "when your brother was brought in, he appeared to have some older bruises and cuts, has he been injured recently?"

"We were in another car accident a couple of weeks ago." Dean replied without going into detail and not particularly wanting even go there.

"Okay. And what was his diagnosis?" The other man asked clinically.

Dean stopped short at that. In all honesty, he didn't know. His brother seemed to be fine physically after the beating by the demon and the crash. Sure, he sported some pretty mean bruises and they were just now beginning to fade until this latest fiasco, but to his shame, he had never asked Sam whether he had been cleared by the doctors to be discharged.

"Uh...I mean. He was fine. Got a good knock to the head. But what does that have to do with anything now?" Dean asked, now on the defensive.

"I only ask because he's just experienced a significant head injury. While many tend to think of concussions as something minor, they're nothing to be fooled around with. If he had already been concussed before the bus crash, that might lend credence into why he seemed to have such a hard time waking up after this latest injury. That's why we had him in ICU before he regained consciousness. Concussions can have a cumulative effect. Multiple concussions cans lead to serious consequences down the road. Has he ever had any injuries like this before?"

Dean's mind flashed to the countless good head crackings Sam had been involved with. "Maybe...he played a lot of football." Dean lied. "But the kid has a pretty hard head."

The doctor nodded. "That may be the case, but I'd like for you to keep a close eye on him after I discharge him. In cases of multiple concussions, memory loss, dis-coordination and depression are likely to occur. Also I'll have a script made for some oral anti-biotics. He took a good dose of smoke into his lungs and I want you to be on the look out for any possible chest infection. He's likely going to be coughing and bringing up a lot of phlegm the next few days, but if he develops a fever over 100, I want you to make sure that he sees a doctor right away."

Dean nodded his head absently as doctor excused himself to go and check on his other patients. Dean hadn't been lying about Sam having a hard head, but what if Sam had already been concussed before this newest escapade? Worry ignited in him like a flame to a dry patch of leaves and he felt guilt eating at him for not being so caught up in his own anger and grief to not see that Sam might have been hurt worse than he thought in that crash. Sam had never let on that it was any worse than it appeared, but dammit if that kid wasn't good at hiding things like this from Dean, especially when they had to deal with Dad's death followed up by a killer clown/ knife-wielding, blind man.

Bobby came strolling up the hallway with two steaming cups of coffee in his hands and shook Dean out of his reverie when he came near.

"Well, what's the word?" Bobby asked, seeing that he had just spoken with the doctor.

"We might as well settle in for the night, Bobby. Sam's not leaving at least until tomorrow." And definitely not until Sam told him more about what happened to him after that car crash, he thought.

OOOOO

After losing her stomach contents in the ladies room, Alicia went to the sink and washed out her mouth and face, before looking into the mirror. Her mind was still a swirl of Dean's emotions. Other than the raw anger, deep down there was a terrible fear there. She wasn't sure how or why, but he feared Sam, was afraid that there was something lurking in that kind man that he might need to destroy. It made her queasy all over again at the thought of it all. Her Sam...evil? There wasn't a chance of that. All she had felt from him was a deep down kindness, and sincerity. It was the total opposite of what she saw in him and knew to be true.

Sam was her kindred spirit, her savior and God help her, but she wasn't going to let that brother of his harm him in any way. It was her turn to repay the debt she owed him for saving his life by saving his. Even if she had to go to the extremes to do it, even if she had to kill Dean. She wasn't going to let him hurt her Sam.

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thanks again for all of the reviews everyone. Sorry, I'm not very good at responding to each of you personally, but I appreciate every comment-good or bad. Okay, so I'm a little worried about this chapter. Not sure if it flows well or if it's even coherent- I went through about three re-writes hoping to get it right, so let me know if it's any good or if I should go back to the drawing board with this one. _:D

**Chapter 5**

Sam had been lightly sleeping when Dean came back into his room, but not asleep enough to ignore the shadow of his brother looming over him. Dragging himself from the comforts of his slumber, he woke to see him scowling down at him. What had done this time? He'd been asleep for cripes sake.

"What?" Sam asked.

"So what exactly did the doctors tell you after the car crash, Sam?"

"What?" He asked confused.

"The car crash, Sam_. The _car crash." Dean repeated as he glared, veins popping out on his forehead. "That doctor seems to think that you may have had more than just a couple of black eyes from it. What did the doctors tell you when we went to the hospital that night? Did you even let them check you out?"

"Dean...C'mon. You and Dad were hurt badly. What was I supposed to do? Just sit there? It wasn't gonna happen. So what?"

"So what? Sam, I saw the way that demon was beating you. No way you walked away from that and the crash without some serious head damage. The doctor here seems to think that one concussion on top of another is a bad thing and I tend to agree with him. Don't you think you could have at least told me?" Dean's voice hitched up another notch and Sam was sure that the whoever was in the room next door had to be getting an earful.

"Will you calm down? It's not like that was the first time I ever got hurt and it's not like you wouldn't have done the same thing-" Sam came back emphatically, his own voice raising.

"Don't turn this around on me, Sam. It's not the same and you know it!"

"It's not? Don't tell me that if it had been me laying near death, hooked up to life-support that you would have just stayed in bed and hoped for the best!" Sam argued back, ignoring the blossoming headache that threatened to make his head explode.

Hearing the boys argue again from outside the door, Bobby hurried inside and put his foot down.

"That's enough! Both of you. Now you best simmer down, the last thing we need is the entire hospital listening in on your little squabble, so you two idjits better shut it down right now!"

Dean felt the wind go out from his sails. Why was all he could feel right now was anger. Anger at himself for not paying closer attention to his brother's injuries after their dad died and anger at Sam for getting hurt and scaring him into thinking that he might lose him and lose anything that left of his family.

Shaking his head, Dean took a seat with a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair. Sam gave him a look that said that words weren't necessary after that and Dean returned it, locking eyes with his little brother. They were both sorry.

OOOOO

Dean snored.

Sam couldn't sleep anymore as the sound droned on, reverberating against the walls. His head and chest hurt, but at least the cadence of the throbbing had settled down some and even his breathing was feeling easier. Morning light was filtering in through the blinds of the window across the small room and played shadows and highlights across the sleeping face of his brother. Dean's feet were propped up on the end of his bed, while the rest of his body looked uncomfortably stuffed into a hard chair. He seemed so peaceful for once, so innocent, young and unmarked by the life that had scarred him on the inside that Sam just wished it could be like this all of the time for his brother.

Bobby too sat in another chair, asleep with his head cocked back and mouth open, his dirty trucker's hat fallen to the floor behind him. Sam had to chuckle a little at the sight. It wasn't often that those two guys let their guard down like this and he was surprising pleased by it all. He would have been content to let them sleep on, but Dean's snoring was more than just a little hard to take with the headache he was putting up with.

With a kick of his feet, Sam knocked against dean's boots and gave them a shove. As they fell, Dean snapped awake with a loud snort, his eyes darting across the room wildly, until they settled on the grinning face of his brother.

"Damn, what's you do that for?" He asked rubbing the sleep from his eyes before twisting his neck around to get out the kinks.

"You were keeping the whole floor up with your snoring." Sam complained.

"I don't snore."

Sam snorted. "Only like a freight train."

"Shut up, Bitch."

"Why don't you make me, Jerk?"

Seeing Sam in better spirits and markedly improved color to his cheeks, Dean was in a better mood himself and was looking forward to seeing his brother get out of this place. The thought of having to spend another night in that accursed chair, was not one he was prepared to entertain.

Dean stretched as he got up and walked over to Bobby, picking up his fallen cap and slapping it across the man's chest playfully to wake him up.

"Time to rise and shine, old man."

Bobby grumbled with his eyes closed. "Boy, do that again and I'll be tearing your ass a new one, got it?" He snatched his hat back from Dean and put it back onto the top of his head where it belonged, before looking over to the bed where Sam was sitting up and basking in the older man's plight with a beaming smile. It had been a while since Bobby had seen that smile and even Dean seemed to be in a better mood.

"Guess sleeping Beauty over here is feeling better." Bobby pointed out.

"I am and I'm ready to get out here." Sam agreed.

It didn't take Dean long to hunt down that Dr. Chen once again and demand Sam's walking papers and prescriptions and less than a couple of hours later, Dean shoved the bottles of antibiotics and painkillers into his pocket while wheeling Sam out of the hospital entrance.

Though he felt silly sitting in the chair when he was perfectly capable of walking, Sam decided not to fight the ride as he was still quite a bit exhausted and shaky on his feet.

Bobby had pulled his old truck up to the curb and Dean helped Sam out of the chair, despite the dirty looks Sam sent his way.

"Thanks, but I think I can make it , Dean." Sam grumbled.

"C'mon, Cinderella. Your carriage awaits to take you to the ball." He grinned evilly, opening the rusty door for him.

"You're definitely not prince charming, so what does that make Bobby?" Sam asked.

"He's the rat that got turned into a coachman."

Bobby growled from the driver's seat. "Will you just get in here already!" Sam settled into the passenger side seat while Dean was stuck with the middle seat. It was close quarters and all were feeling the cramp, each of them wishing that Bobby had gone for the extended cab.

In spite of being squished into his seat and pressed up against the window, it didn't take Sam long to feel the effects of endless miles of boring scenery and painkilling narcotics Dean made him take on threat of an ass-kicking, drifting off into a deep slumber as they drove north.

It was nearly noon as they reached the half-way point to Bobby's house and both of the older men was in desperate need of some gas, coffee and something to eat as they had both slept poorly the other night and not one of them had had any breakfast. So, pulling off into the parking lot of a busy convenience store and gas station, Bobby parked the truck by a pump and hopped out to fill it up. Sam was still fast asleep, softly snoring as his mouth hung open.

"And he says I snore." Dean huffed as he slid out to to the driver's side door and out, letting his little brother get some of the rest he really needed.

"Hey, get me some coffee and one of those taquito things while you're in there will ya, Dean?" Bobby asked as he pulled out his credit card to pay at the pump.

"Sure thing." Dean called behind him as he entered the store.

Bobby swiped his card several times, but the damn machine didn't seem to be reading his card. He cursed out loud at the thing. Shaking his head, Bobby grabbed the pump handle and chose the regular gas before filling the truck's gas tank until it was filled to the top. Realizing he would have to go into the store to pay, he stole a glance at Sam still resting with his head against the passenger side window. He looked so peaceful that Bobby was loath to wake him. It would only take a couple of minutes and the boy would be safe if he left him there to sleep.

Dean was still inside filling two cups of coffee while juggling a bag of MandM's and a taquito when Bobby walked in to pay for the gas.

"Hey, better make sure you get some water and something actually nutritious for your brother, Dean." Bobby called out

"Yeah, yeah." Dean griped, trying to figure out how he was going to carry all this crap at once with only two hands.. The line had several people in front of him and Bobby swore inside of his head again at how inconvenient this convenience store was.

While both men were pre-occupied with their purchases an blue old, little Ford Festiva pulled up to the pump beside the truck.

OOOOO

Alicia thought back to the night before as she pulled up to the gas station. After draining her bank account of every penny she owned, Alicia started putting her plan into action. Time was of the essence as she had heard that Sam would most likely be discharged in the morning.

She quickly left the hospital and picked up a local paper. Scanning the used vehicle listings, she found an ad for an old '89 Ford Festiva that she could afford. Just before nightfall, she took a cab to the man that was selling the car, she didn't bother to haggle with the price nor ask for a test drive, she just didn't have the time. It was an ugly, rusty shade of blue, but as long as it ran, she didn't care.

After buying the car and paying for it with half of the cash she had, she took off for her next stop. She would need protection for her Sam, and while she had never even held one before, she knew she needed a gun. With only a couple hundred dollars left to her name, her options were limited, so she settled on a small .22 handgun she could easily carry in her purse. Next on her to-do list was a trip to the seedier part of town.

Even though she knew that Dean was a danger to Sam, she was uncertain how the younger man would react to him wanting to take him away from him. She had no choice, but she would need something to knock him out until she could get him back to her Grandmother's house where she could keep him safe and to herself.

Having right amount of ketamine would knock a person out for hours. This she knew from all countless surgeries and medications her Grandmother took when she fell ill. She just needed to find someone selling it, either that or she would have to steal some, but she was no criminal master-mind and trying something like that was too risky.

She waited inside her car parked just outside a sleazy motel. She was scared to death of the place, afraid of getting mugged or worse, but when she saw a man leaning against a shiny, decked out Lincoln, she knew that she had found who she was looking for. She had learned from a bartender earlier that evening when she stopped at a local watering hole for dinner and a few shots of liquid courage that there where several drug pushers that conducted their business out side of a run-down motel, he even gave her a name of one of them and a description of him so she would know which one he was as it was obvious to him that she was no cop.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she approached the man and he eyed her suspiciously, but all questions stilled as she pulled out her money and paid for a couple of bottles of ketamine.

Now that she had all that she needed she hurried back to the hospital. It was running past midnight and she hoped that Sam was still in the room he had been placed in earlier. It was with a small sigh of relief when she walked around the corner of the floor Sam's room was and stopped short just before his door and snuck a quick glance inside. Sam was asleep while his brother and the other, older man played cards.

"We need to talk, Dean." The older man began. Dean threw down his hand and glared.

"You and Sam have some kind of conspiracy going on to get me all blubbery and weepy-eyed? Cause it ain't gonna work, Dr. Phil."

"It's not about that, you ass. It's about that damn temper of yours. You and Sam were loud enough to wake the goddamn dead. I know you're angry. Hell, I've been there, done that. But you need to rein it in, not just for Sam's sake, but for yourself. It's eatin' you up from the inside out and if you're not careful it will swallow you whole."

"I don't need an after school special moment right now, Bobby." Dean sighed, seeming tired to Alicia's eyes, but deep down, she knew that the anger was still there, simmering just on the brink of boiling. Even this older man appeared to be concerned by Dean's flare-ups. It only confirmed her feelings that Dean was a danger to Sam.

Set on her course of action now, she knew there was no turning back. If only she had stayed for a few moments more she would have seen the conflict on Dean's face, the weariness and the fear of nearly losing his brother. She would have seen the gentle way he swept Sam's hair away from his eyes and checked over his vital signs just to be certain that he was okay before he settled down in a hard, uncomfortable chair to spend the rest of the night by his side.

OOOOO

Now was her chance. She knew that sooner or later the truck was going to need to stop and when it pulled off to the gas station, she pulled off too and parked where she hoped she wouldn't be noticed. Thankful that the highway had been rather full of traffic, they probably hadn't noticed her following them as she always stayed a few cars away from them. Even though the traffic had been a bonus, it had also bee a hindrance and she almost lost them a couple of times, but now that they had stopped, she easily caught up to them.

She saw Dean leave the cab of the truck with the older man, Bobby getting out first to pump some gas. She checked her own gas meter. She still had at least half a tank, but she didn't want to risk being seen by the guys. She would have to wait until they left to refill and then have to break some speed limits to catch up to them again. She didn't know where their final destination lay, but she was determined to follow them until they got there. Then she could make her move.

However, when the two men left the vehicle, she saw that Sam stayed inside of the truck, asleep and when Bobby made a few obscene curses towards the pump and left Sam all alone in the truck, she was immediately seized by the thought that now would be as good a time as any to do what she needed to do. Feeling for the little syringe she had pre-loaded with the anesthetic in her purse, she pulled it out and shoved it into her coat pocket. She didn't have much time and she had to be quick. It hadn't been a part of her original plan to get Sam now, but as the opportunity to get him away from the other two men while he was asleep alone came along, she knew she would have to take it.

Without much forethought, she put her little car into gear and pulled it up next to the truck. She didn't even bother turn her car off as she grabbed her purse and dashed out of it, quickly jumping into the truck. Glad to see that the keys were still in the ignition, she turned the engine over and slammed it into drive, peeling out of the parking lot in spectacular fashion.

OOOOO

Dean got in line right behind Bobby and gave a groan at the length of it and how the old man at the register seemed to have only one speed: slow.

"Oh man, this is gonna take forever...hey where's Sam?"

"Still sleeping. Thought it best not to wake him. He needs his rest."

Dean glanced out the shop's window. Sam's head was still resting against the side of the window, dead to the world. He gave a little lopsided grin, glad that he had Sam back and ready to take him home where he could fix him up and getting him back into fighting shape.

"Well, I'll be damned..." He heard Bobby mutter.

A TV was one behind the old cashier and Dean's attention was pulled from the window see what was on that had Bobby shaking his head and grinning. A news report was on highlighting the bus crash.

_....A drunk driver is reported to be responsible for the crash that claimed three lives, but thanks to the heroic efforts of an unidentified man, described as being in his early twenties, most of the bus passengers were able to make it to safety..._ A woman reporter stated as she stood next to the highway where the accident had occurred. The image on the screen shifted to a burly looking man recounting the details of the crash to the reporter.

"_If it hadn't been for that guy breaking the window open, I don't think any of us would have made it out..."_

"You think that was Sam?" Dean asked Bobby.

"Sure sounds like it." Bobby agreed. "Who else would it be?"

Dean shook his head. "Why didn't he say anything?"

"I don't think he remembers."

Dean turned his head back to the sight of Sam sleeping in the car. He felt a swelling of pride erupt within him. His little brother would always do whatever it took to save innocent lives, even it it cost him his own. It was just his nature.

He saw the little, blue car pull up next to it on the opposite side of the pump. He didn't think too much of it. It was a busy gas station after all, but there did seem something familiar about the driver of the car, but he couldn't place her. Shrugging, he turned back to the news report just as Bobby moved up in line and began to pay the cashier.

That was when they heard unmistakable sound of the truck engine roaring to life. He turned just in time to see the old pickup burn rubber and fly out of the parking lot.

"Sam!"

"What in tarnation?..." Bobby swore, forgetting his change and charging out of the store, Dean beat him outside just as the tail of the truck disappeared into traffic, taking Sam with it.

Dean began to ran after the speeding truck, but it was an effort all in vain. The truck was gone and with it his brother. Sam couldn't have been driving it, he had been dead to the world, fast asleep in the passenger seat when Dean had glanced at him only moments before the truck took off. He felt a coldness overtake him. Someone had taken Sam, but why?

His mind raced, trying to grasp what had occurred and what he needed to do next. Bobby was in motion, calling his name, but he ignored him and turned his attention to a man standing next to a pay phone watching the scene.

"Hey!" Dean yelled at the guy as he ran up to him, snatching the receiver from his hand and hanging it up.

"What gives, man?" the guy snapped in annoyance and anger. "Who do you think you are?"

"That truck that just pulled away-did you see who was driving it?"

"Why should I care...I was on the phone with my mother!"

Dean could have snapped that guys head off, but instead grabbed the man's flannel collar and nearly took him off of his feet, slamming him into the wall of the shop and bracing him with his forearm.

"Did you see the driver or not!" Dean shouted ferally

"Dean-" Bobby tried to intervene, but the irate, younger man was oblivious to his attempts to cool him down.

"Dude...dude...chill..." The man at the phone raised his hands in fear. "Okay...it was some girl...she came from that blue car over there and just jumped in the truck."

"And you just stood here and watched?"

"What was I supposed to do?"

"Dean...c'mon." Bobby grabbed his arm.

"No, Bobby..." Dean shrugged him off, his gaze boring into the man in his clutches. He needed more info. "The girl. What did she look like?"

"Uh....uh..." The man stammered. Dean increased the pressure of his hold. "Okay, okay...I don't know.. she was short, brown hair, had glasses on..."

Bells went off in Dean's head and he let go of the guy as it hit him like a ton of bricks. It was the girl he had seen from the shop window and he suddenly remembered where he had seen her before. The hospital.

"Let's go, Bobby!" Dean grabbed the older man's shirt, giving him a little tug before he took off at a sprint to the old, blue Festiva still parked by the pump. It was still running as Dean jumped into the driver's seat. As soon as Bobby was in the passenger seat, Dean slammed the gear selector into drive and peeled out of the parking lot, ignoring the angry horns of driver's he cut off along the way.

Dean cursed to himself. Why hadn't he recognized her before? She was the freaky girl he had bumped into next to Sam's room. It was probably no coincidence that she had been there, who knows how long she had sat outside the room. But, who was she? His mind raced almost as fast as the car. What of she was a demon, or vampire or God knows what else? He had to catch them now!

Bobby held on tight to what he called the 'oh-shit!' handle just above the door as Dean swerved and dodged the cars, honking the horn at anyone that got in his way. The car rattled and shook, protesting the speed Dean was pushing it to.

"C'mon...c'mon." Dean growled at the car as the steering wheel shook in his hand from the unbalanced tires. They were just pushing 80 miles per hour and it felt as though the car might tear itself apart from the velocity.

"Dean!" Bobby warned, seeing the heat indicator pushing past the red. Smoke and steam poured from the hood, but Dean could just make out the tail of Bobby's truck and wasn't about to stop. He jerked the car sharply again, narrowly avoid a little old lady in a Honda Civic giving him the finger as he flew past.

Pressing the accelerator completely to the floor, the car gave another shutter, but refused to go any faster. The truck was still ahead by several car lengths and starting to pull further away.

Suddenly the was a jarring snap and the car rattled from deep inside the engine.

"Crap!...No No No No!" Dean shouted, slamming the steering wheel with his fists.

"Sounds like we broke a belt." Bobby shouted above the noise of the engine. Dean stomped on the accelerator again, but it refused to perform it's job and instead the car began to slow.

"No! You piece of shit..GO!" It was no use. No matter how much Dean yelled at the car, it had been pushed too far. Overheated and broken, it whined and rattled as Dean was forced to pull it over to the shoulder to avoid becoming roadkill from the other cars flying by. He could only watch in despair as Bobby's truck pulled further and further from view until it disappeared over the horizon.

OOOOO

The familiar rumble of the engine wasn't enough to wake Sam at first. He was vaguely aware of them taking off again, which had been expected, but something wasn't right-he wasn't being squished against the window by Dean's body as they moved and it was way too quiet inside the cab.

Something had to be amiss if Dean wasn't cursing his position in the middle seat.

Feeling a sudden stab of pain in his thigh, Sam jerked his eyes open and darted his eyes all about, thinking at first that Dean had pinched him for some reason he was about to curse him out. But Dean wasn't there, neither was Bobby, instead he was greeted by the sight of a young girl driving the truck beside him, gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles were white.

"What the hell?!" Sam yelled in a daze of confusion and panic. The girl turned her head, a wild look in her eyes. He recognized her face right off, he had met her at the hospital- Was Alicia he name? He fought to recall, finding it strange how fuzzy everything everything felt in his head. But what the hell was she doing here, driving Bobby's truck and where were Dean and Bobby?

"Alicia?" He asked. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Sam." was all she replied as she kept an eye on the road and punched the accelerator. He went for the door handle, but it was locked and seeing as how the scenery was rushing by in such a blur, they were traveling too fast for him to jump out. He made a move to grab for her, but was taken by a wave of overwhelming dizziness flooding over him. His limbs were growing so heavy that reaching her had become nearly impossible. Straining against his seat-belt in an effort to reach her, it held him fast and he was becoming so tired so fast that it took his brain several moments to realize that she must have drugged him. That explained the pinch he felt, but that realization was coming in a little too late now as the world about him began to waver and darken.

"Whadd ya do?" He slurred his words, his tongue felt too fat in his mouth for speech to continue. His head bobbed as he fought the effects of whatever it was she had injected him with, but it was too much for him to overcome. On their own volition and against his will, his eyelids drooped shut and the last thing he heard was her repeating: "I'm sorry, Sam. I have to keep you safe...."

TBC.....


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Thanks for continuing to read this story. I enjoy hearing what you all think of this and you've given me so much encouragement, so thank-you all. Hope you like this next installment. :D_

**Chapter 6**

Wrapped in a wonderful cocoon of softness, Sam didn't want to let go of the floating feeling the enveloped him. It was all whiteness: peaceful and calm. Surrendering and staying forever buried in it was all he wanted to do.

But something in the back of his head told him that this was all wrong, he shouldn't be enjoying this restful bliss. Something wasn't right about the way he was drifting around in this haze and he had to consciously force his body to respond to his request to open his eyes.

Feeling like a hundred ton weight was attached to his eyelids, he pried them open. The world swirled and spun on its axis and he felt sick. He closed his eyes again, hoping for the nausea to pass and after a moment or two it ebbed enough for him to try his luck with opening his eyes again.

His vision still swam and doubled, but was becoming more coherent as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. He didn't recognize the room he was in. Faded and peeling flowery wallpaper surrounded him while a small nightstand with a dingy ceramic lamp and stained shade sitting upon it was off to his side.

Confusion gripped him as he struggled to recall how he ended up in this room. Then he remembered the truck, the drug...Alicia...the crazed look in her eyes...

Oh God....he had to get out of there.

_'Way to go getting yourself kidnapped by that crazy bitch, Sammy.' _He could almost hear Dean mock him in his head.

He tried to push himself from the pillow, but his arms and legs were refusing to obey his commands. Fighting against the heaviness in his limbs and he felt sweat break out on his brow as the effort to just raise himsef up to a sitting position felt like an Olympic power-lifting event.

A spike of pain shooting through his head almost had him falling back down to the pillow again, but he refused to give into it and pushed on until he was sitting up fully. Dizziness threatened to overwhelm him and the corners of his vision darkened while the room spun in circles. His stomach rebelled at the change in position and the last shred of control he had over it snapped so quickly that he almost had no time to lean over the edge of the mattress before he lost the contents of his stomach to the carpet below.

"Oh shit...oh God...oh God..." A female voice sounded off from the doorway, rushing into the room. Panting from the sickness that washed over him, he saw Alicia run out of the room again and come back only seconds later with a towel.

"I'm so sorry, Sam..." She apologized over an over again, almost in tears while she stooped to clean the floor, babbling as she scrubbed. "I never meant for you to be this sick....Gotta clean it up...Grandma would be so mad....I'll clean it...make it better...fix this"

Y_ep._..he thought to himself.._she's definitely not stable- Time to get out of here. _

Though his vision was still doing loopdy loops, he looked to the open room door. Alicia was so focused on her cleaning task that Sam knew he needed to take advantage of her distraction if he was to get out of this place.

Glancing about for anything that he could use as a weapon, his eyes rested on the lamp. Still frantically scrubbing the floor, Alicia didn't see him reach for it until it was too late for her. His limbs, though weighted and uncoordinated, surged with power as he used what was left of his strength to grasp it and yank the cord out from the wall in one swoop. In a swing that would have made Dean tease him about being such a girl, he aimed for her head.

Though it was an underpowered attempt, it was enough as the lamp connected with a thump, knocking her glasses off her face as she fell harshly to the floor with a yelp. She lay on her side, dazed and moaning while Sam took that as his cue to get the hell out of there.

He rolled to the other side of the bed and heaved himself off until he hit the floor. He groaned as another spike of pain shot through his head. Feeling the adrenaline in his body take over and overcome some of his feebleness, he managed to push himself to his knees then onto his feet. The ground felt uneven, like he was stuck aboard a swaying sailboat as he took his first step.

Desperately, he made for the door. But dammit if his legs wouldn't work properly. _Shit. _Whatever it was that girl had injected him with was a real bitch. He had only made it as far as the door before his knees began to buckle and he fell to the floor on all fours, panting and sweating.

Suddenly the door slammed closed and he weakly lifted his head to see Alicia's bloody face bearing down on him, her eyes shining brightly with hurt tears and betrayal.

"I'm only trying to help you, Sam...why won't you let me?"

Sam was too winded to respond with words, but the door was just behind her. His energy reserves were burning out way too fast and he couldn't ever recall feeling this kind of lethargy before. But, he had to make it to that door, no matter what. Besides, if he couldn't get past one little, crazy chick, he'd never be able to live it down in Dean's eyes.

Summoning what was left of his dwindling strength, Sam lunged, hoping to inflict the least amount of damage to the girl by just shoving her away from the door. It worked for the most part. He managed to catch her by surprise and push her far enough away from the door for him to reach for the handle. Crawling to his feet, he pushed the door open and cursed again his wobbly legs as he stumbled into a short hallway.

He could see the front door from there, the light pouring from its window a welcome sight. It meant escape and freedom and he had to get to it. He braced himself along the wall, walking and stumbling towards it like a one-legged drunk as fast as his jelly-like legs would allow. He had actually only made it a few steps before a banshee-like cry issued from behind and he felt himself being hurled to the floor, Alicia tackling him, her arms wrapping around his waist and sending them both plummeting down.

He landed hard face down on the floor with Alicia's body weight pinning him. Feeling a stabbing pinch between his shoulder blades he would have cursed out loud if she hadn't just taken the wind out of him. He struggled to throw her off, but the drug she had just successfully pumped him with yet again was already taking hold. Damn, what was it with this girl and needles anyway?

_Shit..this is so not good. _He thought dully as the world began to shift and darken once more. Dean was definitely never going to stop teasing him about being taken out by a girl like this.

OOOOO

Dean jumped out of the smoking car, slamming the door with a loud curse. He saw nothing but red as he kicked at the rusty door, feeling the metal dent under his foot.

"Stupid. Piece. Of. Fucking. Shit!" He kicked the door with each word. His foot throbbed with each impact; cursing Ford, cursing that bitch, cursing God, cursing Bobby for leaving his frickin' keys in the truck, cursing himself for his own foolishness...

Bobby was out of the car just as fast. "Dean-" he implored the young man to stop his rampage. Dean kept up his relentless beating until Bobby had had enough and put a restraining hand on his shoulder in an attempt to pull him away and maybe smack some sense into the boy.

Bobby hadn't expected Dean's fist to swing out, but he ducked just in time to avoid getting his teeth knocked in.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Bobby shouted with his hands up in defense. Dean stood poised to strike again, his fist bunched up and held shaking, his eyes glinting with rage. "This ain't helping, Dean! Hitting this car or me isn't gonna help us find your brother."

Panting heavily, Bobby watched the madness in Dean's eyes switch off in realization that he was about to give the older man a beating and that he was right- this wasn't going to bring Sam back. Finally, he dropped his fist.

"What do we do, Bobby?"

Straightening up to his full height, the older hunter pointed at the younger. "First, you calm the heck down." Dean just nodded, still gasping for air after his outburst.

"Fine..." Defeated, Dean turned his back on the old car and leaned up against it, crossing his arms and looking to Bobby for guidance.

"Next..I'm gonna call my friend Marcus, he's got a tow truck and a salvage business in Butte, it's not too far from here. Then we can see if we can track down who this girl is that took Sam. We got our biggest clue right here. We should start by searching the car."

While Bobby got on the horn with his friend to get him to pick them up, Dean crawled into the car to see if he could find anything that might give them any indication as to who that crazy chick was. The only thing he found were old, empty soda cans and candy wrappers until he opened up the glove compartment.

"Yahtzee-" He muttered to himself as he pulled a title and registration sheet out.

"Marcus should be here in about half an hour...find anything?" Bobby asked from outside the open door.

Dean waved the papers in response. "The car's registered to a Carl Smothers in Norfolk." Dean informed him as he pulled out his cell phone, dialling 411.

Getting the phone number for the man a minute later, Dean had the operator connect him and he waited while it rang, hoping that this guy might know the girl or had any useful information for him.

"Hello?" He heard a man answer.

"Yes, Hello Mr. Smothers, this is Officer Dean Wescott with the Nebraska State Patrol." Dean began with his most professional voice, coming up with a probable excuse for calling the guy off the top of his head. "We have an abandoned car here, a Ford Festiva that's registered to you that we believe was used in the commission of a crime..."

"A crime?...what?...." The man cut him off. "Hey, that car's not even mine anymore. I sold it the other day to some girl."

Now they were getting somewhere.

"This girl...do you have a name for her?"

"Uh...I dunno...she said it was Alice or Alicia or something like that. She didn't give me a last name and she paid for the thing in cash. I wasn't asking any questions, I just wanted to get rid of the thing. It was kind of a piece of crap, ya know?"

_Tell me about it. _Dean grumbled to himself. "Okay...so this girl. Can you describe her to me, did you notice anything odd about her behavior?"

"Well, I guess she was pretty normal look. Short, wore glasses. She was a little weird though."

"Oh? How so?"

"For starters, she didn't even want to test drive the thing. She seemed in a big hurry and just paid the five hundred I asked for without any haggling. Hey...I'm not going to get any trouble for this am I? I told that girl that she needed to go to the DMV to get the registration put in her name."

"No sir, you should be in the clear, but one more thing...did she give you any indication of where she might be heading?"

"No....can't say that she told me and I never asked...sorry."

"Thanks for your time, Sir." Dean ended the conversation and snapped his phone shut, grinding his teeth. At least he had a name now...or at least he sort of had a name.

Bobby had been watching the exchange from outside the car. "Got her?"

"Not yet....She was at the hospital, Bobby and given that she was dressed in street clothes, I'd bet she was a patient. But at least I have a first name now and can start from there."

Dean hurried to call the hospital and got a hold of a not-so-helpful records clerk.

"I'm sorry, sir. But patient information is kept strictly confidential."

"Yeah, yeah...I get that, Dammit. I just need to know if there was an Alice or Alicia admitted to the hospital two days ago."

"Well, sir. There's no need to get snippy with me." She huffed and Dean imagined in his head, a prune faced, old hag glaring down at him from over the tops of her half-rimmed reading glasses.

"I'm sorry...Please....This is very important." He pleaded. He wasn't above begging if it meant he could find this girl and get Sam back.

Another sigh registered through the phone. "Oh, all right...let me see....." He heard the sounds of typing until she spoke again. "There was an Alice Beasley admitted to the hospital two days ago for an outpatient surgery and there was an Alicia Summers treated and released that day as well. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you anything more about them...their records are-"

"Confidential, yeah..." He answered for her.

Dean hung up on her then, knowing that there wasn't much else he could squeeze from the woman over the phone. He needed another way to get at those records, one of them had to be the girl that had Sam and there was a good chance that those records could give him an address or more information on her. If only sam had been there...he could have hacked into the hospital records.... But wasn't there and that was a particular skill set that Dean wasn't exactly known for, the extent of his computer knowledge lay in what websites offered the best free porn.

Bobby wouldn't be much help either in the computer area since Dean wasn't even sure the older man owned a computer or even knew how to use e-mail. There was only one other man he could think of that could get the information he need. He flipped open his phone again and dialed, getting a sleepy and most likely hungover voice answering it from the other end.

"Hey Ash, I need you to do something for me...."

OOOOO

Alicia climbed off of Sam's still form. He was out again and her head hurt. She touched the cut above her temple. It stung like mad, but it would have to wait until she had gotten Sam back into bed. She would have to do more than drug him to keep him here, she realized. The drug had been effective to knock him out, but his becoming sick had her worried that she had given him too much and she would have to back off on using it any more.

She would definitely need a better way to keep him near her.

Despite her aching head, she pulled on Sam's ankles and dragged him back into the room.

OOOOO

This time waking up wasn't quite as disorienting as the last, but his head still felt like someone was trying to split it in two with a butter knife and his chest felt strangely tight, like he had just run a marathon in freezing weather. He coughed several times, increasing the pain in his chest and realized that his arms were aching as well. He wasn't sure why until he opened his eyes to see his hands tied above his head to the bedposts. He struggled against the tight bonds, the thin nylon rope chafing against his skin.

_Damn._ They were securely knotted with skill that would have made a sailor jealous and the more he fought against them, the tighter they became until his hands were almost turning purple.

He looked down at his feet, they too had been stripped bare and were tied to the endposts, he gave them a tug as well, but found them just as tight as the ones that bound his hands.

"Crap..." He muttered to himself, not loudly, but loud enough for the girl beside him sleeping in a chair to stir and open her eyes. She sported a bandage over her temple where he recalled smashing the lamp against her head, but she didn't seem to be mad about it, to his surprise, she appeared apologetic.

"Oh, Sam...you're awake..."

"Alicia...wh-why are you doing this? Let me go."

"I'm sorry Sam, I can't do that." She got up from the chair.

"Why?"

"Because you're safer here."

"Safer?....From what?"

"From your brother."

"My brother? Wha?.....why would you think that Dean is a danger to me?"

"Because. _He_ is dangerous." She leaned toward him, her eyes glittering with resolve, her hands shaking. Sam couldn't recall being scared of just an ordinary girl before, but now he was. "He has so much anger, so much fear and violence running through his mind that he's going to snap soon and when he does, you'll be hurt...or worse."

Confusion ran rampant through Sam's head. "How do you know what he's thinking? You don't know him...you've never even met him."

"I have met him, Sam.....At the hospital. It's hard to explain and you'll more than likely think I'm crazy, but God has given me a gift: sometimes when I touch people, I can see into their minds and emotions, and see little snippets of their memories. I used to think it was a curse to be able to feel what another person was feeling, to peer at the events of their lives that have turned them into the people they are, but now I know it's a gift. This ability has brought me to you-bonded us and has shone me the danger you are in. Don't you see?...God put us on that bus together, He made you save me...if that's not fate, I don't know what is. We were meant to be together and to protect each other."

"Alicia..." Sam shook his head, her eyes still holding onto that glint of desperation that gave him the chills. How was he supposed to talk his way out of this one?

Then it dawned on him: she was admitting to Sam that she had psychic abilities...like him.

"Wait...you're telling me that you can read people's minds?"

"Well....not exactly. Like I said...I see bits and pieces and I feel what they are feeling. Sometimes, if a thought is strong enough, I can hear it. You think I'm insane, don't you?"

"I believe you...." He assured her without letting it slip that he thought she had a screw loose.

"You do?"

"Yeah...but, you don't know Dean. He would never hurt me."

"I wish I could believe that, Sam. But I touched him, I know how troubled he is and I won't allow you to be near him." She stood adamantly, looking down on him with grim determination. "I won't let him find you. You and I were meant to be together...you have to realize that. It's our destiny and you can't fight destiny."

Sam gulped at that. There was that damned 'destiny' word again. His father's face came unbidden into his mind, his eyes flashing yellow with the demon that he had fought so long and hard to destroy.

_I have plans for you, Sammy....you and all the other children like you._

She was another kid like Max and himself and it was chillingly apparent that she was just as unhinged as Max had been. A shiver ran up and down Sam's spine...is this how he was going to end up too? Was he doomed to go insane like they had or go 'dark side' and fall into evil's grasp? So far, all signs were pointing in that direction and it scared him to no end.

TBC.....


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Hope everyone had a great Easter and enjoyed the last episode of Supernatural as much as I did (Michael Shanks on SPN! ***swoon***, oh and the angst.). Thanks for hanging in there and continuing to read this story. Don't know how great this next chapter is, but if you like it let me know or if you think it needs work, I'd appreciate hearing that too. . :D_

**Chapter 7**

"Ash, I need you to do something for me..." Dean began just after hearing the sleepy 'hello' from the other end.

"Uhhh? Who's this?" Ash asked back, sounding disoriented and confused. Dean had a mental image of him laying on the pool table surrounded by several empty bottles of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

"It's me, Ash. Dean."

"Dean?....Dean who?"

"Winchester, you dumbass."

"Winchester?"

"We were just at the roadhouse last week, remember?" Dean growled back, his patience waning, letting his voice show his irritation.

"Oh yeah, yeah...you're the guys with the demon I'm tracking. Sorry man, things got a little crazy last night, ya know. There was this big guy...bet him a hundred dollars I could drink him under the table. I won though....at least I think I did-"

"Ash!" Dean's patience had left the building as he cut off Ash's slurred storytelling.

"What?"

"Shut-up. Now get your damned ass off the damned pool table and boot up your damned computer."

"Ughhh..." Dean heard him groan. "Fine, fine...I'm getting up." Dean heard a few stumbling noises and the sound of beer bottles being knocked around for a few seconds before Ash came back to him.

"Okay...what ya need?"

"I need you to work your computer mojo on Memorial Hospital in Norfolk, Nebraska. Find me anything on both an Alice Beasley and Alicia Summers."

"Ya know, hackin's illegal....what's in it for me?"

"How about you do it now and I won't come out there and punch the teeth on that ugly mullet head of yours so far down your throat that it comes out your ass.

"Jeez. Boy, somebody's grumpy...."

"Ash!"

"Okay..okay...I was just kidding. So medical records it is. Give me a minute." Dean heard the sounds of keys typing while Ash hummed_ Slow Ride_ to himself. Dean drummed his fingers on the dashboard in front of him, gritting his teeth. He was about to urge Ash to hurry the hell up when he heard him say, "Alrighty, I'm in."

"Great, now look up Alice Beasley."

"'Kay..." More typing sounds. "it says here that she's 78 years old, came in for hip surgery."

"That's not her" Dean muttered. At least he could scratch that one off. "What about Alicia Summers?"

"uhhh. " Ash mumbled as he typed again. "She's 23, was treated for a minor concussion and smoke inhalation."

"That's gotta be her. Does she have an address?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Text it to me as soon as I hang up."

"No problemo."

"Thanks, Ash. Sorry 'bout the whole punching your teeth down your throat thing."

"Hey, it's okay. Just bring a six pack next time I see ya and we're even."

Dean hung up the phone with a quick snap of his wrist and opened the car door to join Bobby while he sat on the hood of the broken down car, looking out towards the highway, hoping to see any sign of his friend coming to pick them up.

"Looks like we got a name and Ash is sending me her address. Bet you dollars to donuts that that's where she took Sam."

"That would be sort of obvious don't ya think?"

"Well, where else would she go? She didn't exactly strike me as the professional kidnapper type."

Just as soon as Dean had said that his phone chirped with the incoming text he was expecting. He looked at the screen and harrumphed.

"Hey, Bobby, check this out." He held out the phone to the older man. Bobby took the phone from him and read the address and name.

"You know her?" Dean asked. "She lives in Sioux Falls- that's your town." he added, as if Bobby didn't already know that.

"No. Name doesn't ring any bells. It's not like I know every single person in town, Dean. But at least we know where to start."

It was closing in on dark by the time Bobby's friend showed up and Dean's anxiousness had cranked up to nearly unbearable levels. Things were so out of his control that he couldn't stand it much longer. It was a hellacious drive back to Bobby's place. He wanted nothing more than just kick everyone out of the tow truck and drive himself right out to that bitch's place, take her out and get Sam, but Bobby, ever the bastion of cool-headedness, reminded him that they would need a plan and weapons first before breaking down any doors.

Dean hated that the older hunter was right when his instincts told him that action was needed right now. Grudgingly he went along with it, but in the interim, sitting on his hands in that tow truck, listening to crappy country music while smelling whatever had up and died in there was almost enough to drive him bat-shit crazy.

Lightning began to flash as soon as they pulled into Bobby's Salvage yard and heavy drops of rain splattered the windshield when they came to a stop. Dean hopped out and was already running for Bobby's porch while the older hunter thanked his friend and told him to keep the little Festiva as thanks for the ride.

Dean wasted no time shoving weapons, knives, ammo, holy water, salt and anything else he could think of into a duffel bag as Bobby entered the house. Dean was making for the door when Bobby stopped him.

"Hold on, Dean."

"What, Bobby? I don't have time for this. Who knows what that bitch is doing to Sam right now."

"I know. But you need to cool your heels for a moment, and think. This girl-she could be just an ordinary person and I won't have you blowing her away the second you walk into that house."

"Yeah. And she could also be some kind of demon for all we know. I can handle this myself, Bobby." Dean looked to Bobby with intense eyes. While he was grateful for the older hunter's help thus far, he didn't want to place him in any more danger.

"Don't be stupid, boy." Bobby reached for his own shotgun, loading it with ammo and snapping it shut with a resounding click. "I'm coming with you. Someone's gonna have to keep you from gettin' yourself killed."

OOOOO

It should have been difficult for Sam to sleep with his hands tied above his head, but he was mildly surprised to find himself waking up from a fitful dream with his hands numb above him. He heard humming come outside the room and he groaned to himself. Alicia was still there, it wasn't all just a bad dream.

It was cold in the room and a light flashed from outside the window accompanied by the rolling, muffled sounds of thunder coming at them from a distance. Sam shivered involuntarily, chills wracked his body and he coughed roughly, his lungs burning much like they had the first time he woke in the hospital with smoke inhalation. His chest tight and his throat was dry; he couldn't remember the last time he had anything to drink and he was so thirsty.

Besides his aching arms, his head still hurt, especially as he felt another tickle climb up his throat and demand that he hack and wheeze to get whatever junk was still lodged in his lungs from the fire. After that last bout, all he could do was lie there panting, willing for the stars to fade out of his vision.

God he was tired. He could just slip back into sleep so easily, let it dull the pain and take him away from his situation. Sweat beaded on his brow, cooling his skin and making him shiver all over again. Given the way he was hot and cold both at the same time told him that he was getting a fever and if the coughing was anything to go by, then he was probably on his way to one rip-roaring chest infection. Great. That's just what he needed on top of everything else.

All thoughts of his own misery departed as soon as a shadow appeared from the threshold of the door. Alicia stood there, appraising him and he felt another shiver course through him just as another flash of lightning lit up the room. This time it wasn't the cold that gave him chills.

"I've brought you some water. I heard you coughing." She walked in with a glass in hand, a straw sticking out from the top and sat next to him. She offered the water, moving the straw towards his lips. His first instinct was to refuse, but his thirst won out and he sucked the water up greedily.

"There. That's better." She cooed after she took the drink away. He wanted more, needed more water, but before he could ask for it back, he felt her hand run through his hair, petting him like he was some sort of dog. He felt his stomach rebel at that, his thirst forgotten, but he sucked it up and wouldn't let his nausea at being pawed get the better of him.

"Alicia." He croaked, not liking the way his voice cracked. "Please, don't."

She pulled her hand back, like she had just received an electric shock, hurt registering in her eyes. "Sorry, but you look flushed and you're hot. I think you have a fever."

"Alicia...look. You're right." He hoped he could try a different tactic and rationalize with her. "I'm not feeling so well. So, don't you think it's time you let me go? I can call my brother, he'll come get me and we'll just go. We won't call the cops and we'll just forget this ever happened."

"NO" she stood abruptly and the thunder rolled again, this time her face lit up with anger.

"Listen. I get that you want to keep me safe, but you said it yourself that you only caught little bits and pieces of people's lives. How do you know you're getting the whole story on Dean? Look, our dad died only a few weeks ago and he's just messed up over it. You can't blame him for being angry- it's just how he deals with things....."

Alicia looked at him intensely, her lip quivered and her whole countenance changed before his eyes, like a switch had been flicked on in her brain. And what he saw wasn't pretty.

"You think I'm stupid, don't you?" She started, her voice wavering with raw emotion, her eyes narrowing in a sudden anger that took Sam by surprise.

"You think I don't know what I saw?" Her voice rose several notches. "You're just like Grandma....she always said I was too stupid, too ugly to ever be loved. But I still waited on her hand and foot, bathed her, fed her, wiped her ass, but she still would never love me. And you're just like her. I just want to protect you Sam, love you. Is it too much to ask for me to be loved back?!" as she took the glass she was holding and slammed it onto the nightstand beside him, shattering it in her hand while she shook.

And just like that, it seemed like she snapped back into reality. Sam could only stare at her with wide eyes at the sudden outburst of rage. A second later, still trembling and breathing heavily, she looked at the broken glass, tears springing to her eyes as she appeared to be gathering herself back together. She took off her glasses and wiped at the tears before taking a deep breath.

"Sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to get so mad." She took another shuddering breath. "I don't have any aspirin in the house. After Grandma died, I got rid of it all, but you need it. I'll have to go to the store. I won't be gone for too long and then I can take care of that fever of yours."

"Alicia...Please." He begged her. "Just let me go."

She didn't answer him, but checked the ropes binding his hands and feet, tightening up some of the knots.

"Just stay put. I'll be back, my love." she bent down and Sam tried to turn his head away, but she grasped his cheeks with both hands and planted a kiss on his forehead. He closed his eyes until he was sure she was gone and he heard the front door open and bang shut.

He released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Finally she was gone and escape was his only option. He couldn't wait any longer for Dean to find him. He was going to have to get himself out of this one.

He pulled on the ropes that held his hands. God they were tight, but he was desperate. Alicia was losing any grip she had on reality and he had to get out of there now. He felt his skin rub hot against the ropes, but they wouldn't give. Growing white hot with rage against his bindings he pulled and pulled, putting all of his strength into the effort. He grunted and screwed his eyes tight, clenching his teeth as he fought the pain and tugged harder, ignoring the slick wetness he could feel dripping down his arms that could only be blood flowing from his wrists.

Without warning he heard and felt a crack. The ropes were still tight enough to cut off circulation to his hands, but the wood of the bedpost wasn't as strong, giving way under the pressure. Sam could have laughed at the absurdity of it all, but with freedom so close at hand he focused instead on weakening the wood further. He yanked and pulled, the post of the bed began to bend where it had cracked and he thanked his lucky stars that the frame had been of old, dry wood instead of metal. It still wasn't easy and Sam could feel his energy reserves drying up, but he refused to give in until at last, there was another loud, resonating crack and the post snapped in half.

Exhausted, Sam lay back on the pillow, his head swimming and his chest heaving. He laughed at his small victory. That is until his lungs rebelled and he found himself coughing yet again and struggling to catch his breath. He hawked and turned his head to the side, pitting up a lungful of gunk. He made a face at the nastiness of it all, but then set again on getting himself free.

He pulled down on the ropes that held his hand to the broken bedpost, sliding it down the wood and fighting against the pain it caused his abraded wrists. Streaks of blood lined the wood as it slid down, but he took no notice of it until he finally had pulled his hand down and past the jagged edges of the wood.

With one hand free now he worked on releasing his other one. Though his fingers were numb, he was pleased that they were at least still functional as he tried to loosen the knots. It wasn't easy undoing them and it took far longer than he had hoped, but soon, both hand were free and sat up abruptly. Dark splotches formed in front of his eyes and he felt himself swaying. _Whoa...head rush_. He fought against the impending darkness, now was not the time to pass out. He gave himself of couple of seconds for it pass, the effects of the drugs and laying down in one position for too long were taking their toll, but he was loath to let them take over.

With his vision finally coming back, he made short work of the ropes to his ankles until he was finally free. Now that he out, his next move was to get off the bed and find the nearest phone. He swung his legs over the bed and his bare feet landed on the floor. Looking around the room, he spotted his jacket, boots and socks piled neatly by the door. He stood on rubbery legs, willing them forward. Pulling on his socks and then his boots, he struggled with the laces as the blood returning to his hands caused them to sting on pins and needles.

He gave up trying to tie his boots when the pain in his hands became too much and pulled on his jacket instead, his thoughts centering on getting to a phone and calling Dean. Fueled now more by determination and adrenaline than by his own physical energy, he got up again and made for the door. On his left he spotted the sparsely furnished living room and to his immense relief, a slim-line telephone sat perched on a lamp table by a dirty, old and worn-out sofa.

He scrambled towards it, fumbling with the receiver and dialing, surprised to see that his fingers and hands were still shaking. Once dialed, he put the receiver to his ear then felt his heart drop out. No ringing...nothing...not even dial tone.

Shit. Why can't anything ever be easy?

The front door was his only option now. Hopefully, there was a neighbor near-by and he could use their phone. Making his way over, another flash of lightening, this one close enough to shake the rafters of the house sounded and roared with instant thunder. Just as he opened the door, a gust of cold wind hit him in the face and it began to pour.

But more dismaying than the rain was the fact that there was nothing outside the door except for trees, trees, more trees and a long stretch of narrow, gravel road that he took as being a driveway.

Great. No neighbors he could see nearby and who knew how far off the road was.

Dammit. Why couldn't he ever get kidnapped and held prisoner in a populated place? Well, he'd had worse; images of the Benders came to mind, making him shiver all over again.

There was only one way out of here and that was on foot. So, pulling his jacket on tighter he took off into the cold, windy, raging storm.

TBC.....


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Yay! I just about squealed last night watching 'point of no return' What a great episode! Thanks again for all of you still reading this story and for all of your reviews, I truly appreciate them all. Anyway, here's my latest chapter; I know it's a little short, but I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think of it. :D_

**Chapter 8**

Water sloshed into Sam's boots as he trudged along the mucky, rocky road. He shivered again, hair plastered to his head and obscuring his vision while rain poured down his face and soaked him from head to toe.

He'd been walking for what felt like an eternity. In actuality it may have only been about twenty minutes, but the going was dreadfully slow while the wind blew wildly into his face. The storm was becoming fierce, the tree boughs above his head swaying dangerously, some creaking so loudly that Sam kept it in his head to watch for falling limbs.

He coughed into his hands, the tightness in his chest was growing thans to the cold and he had to admit to himself that he was feeling 100% at the moment. Chills coursed through his body and his wet clothes did little to warm him. He really needed to find a way to get a hold of Dean soon. Then he could give in to being sick, find a nice, clean motel room with a warm bed and sleep for days. The thought of being warm alone was enough to spur him on and keep going.

Trudging on, he stayed near the shoulder, keeping an eye out for the truck, ready to run into the woods should he see it. The last thing he wanted was to be found again by Alicia. She was troubled, just as much as Max Miller was, but he wondered if all hope was lost for her as well. He had wanted to help Max, but that had only led to almost getting his brother killed, but maybe Alicia wasn't too far gone yet. Perhaps when he got back to Dean they could got back to her and get her some psychiatric help. Then again, what if he was just projecting his hope for her as hope for himself. What if he was next on the list to become deranged?

The thought had him shivering again.

He sniffed as snot ran down his nose and he lamented that all he had to wipe it with was his wet sleeve. Lightening flashed again, this time way too close for comfort within the woods, the blast of electricity hitting a near-by tree, exploding it into flames with a resounding_ CRACK._

Startled, he jumped from the sound, afraid that the tree might fall on him. He hadn't been watching where he was going the last few hundred yards and he hadn't noticed how steep the drop-off was from the road. His foot caught on a rock and the next thing he knew he was tumbling down the ravine, hitting sharp branches along the way and coming to a sudden stop at the bottom, his head and body connecting with a fallen tree and sending his world into darkness.

He was still out a few minutes later when a vehicle turned onto the dirt road he had been walking along and sped passed him.

OOOOO

Rain beat steadily down on the windshield and seeing the road was difficult because the windshield wipers had decided to quit working after the first two swipes. But at least they were moving and Dean reminded himself that beggars couldn't be choosers. There hadn't exactly been a plethora of working vehicles in the salvage yard and the one they were driving now was running, yes, but whether or not it was street worthy was a matter of opinion. It was an old El Camino, missing one headlight and passenger side door and Dean was just glad that he was in the driver's seat and in control . However, with Bobby cursing beside of him every time they hit a puddle and water splashed into the cab, soaking the older man, he felt a little guilty for putting the older hunter through that.

"Goddammit." Bobby swore again as more water hit him.

"Sorry." Dean offered distractedly, his eyes focused on the road as he gunned the accelerator.

"Just keep watch for cops, we won't be doin' ourselves any favors if we get pulled over for driving this jalopy."

"God, this place is out in the middle of butt-effing nowhere." Dean complained, it had been miles since they had seen any houses along the tree-lined road. "You see it yet? I can't see a damn thing through the windshield."

"Should be another mile or so up ahead then we turn left onto a dirt road." Bobby informed him, reading the GPS as they drove. The address had been located further outside the city than either of them had anticipated, but with Dean behind the wheel, ignoring all posted speed limits, they were closing in on it quickly.

Dean pushed the car harder and the engined roared. Finally, they came upon the dirt road and Dean yanked hard on the wheel, squealing tires burning against the wet black-top as they peeling into the muddy road.

"Ack!" Bobby grunted when pebbles and mud flew up through the non-existant door.

Dean peered through the windshield as best as he could, the night was so dark and with only one headlight, making anything out was near impossible, but after half a mile, a small, ranch-style house came into blurry view.

"This it?" Dean asked.

"Think so. Address matches." Dean pulled up the drive and killed the engine, they were still several hundred feet from the door, but he didn't want the noise from the engine alerting that bitch that they were coming.. He reached into the back seat and pulled out his duffel, zipping it open and pulling out his knife, strapping it to his ankle then reaching in again and pulling out his .45.

Bobby checked his shotgun and gave Dean a nod that indicated that he was ready to go. Both men exited the car and began to quietly descend upon the property.

The house was dark and silent from the outside, it looked like no one was at home. No lights shown from inside, but with the weather raging as it was, it wouldn't have surprised him that the power had been knocked out.

Bobby headed for the one-car garage as they drew near, peering into the window. "No truck." He informed Dean as he came near.

"He's gotta be here." Dean whispered back, keeping their voices low, maintaining their stealth mode. Dean indicated with hand signals for Bobby to take the back door while he went to the front. The older hunter nodded and ran around the side of the house while Dean quietly went to the front. He peered through the curtain-less window, but saw only a darkened living room. Slowly he sidled up to the door and slowly tried the doorknob. He expected it to be locked, but was surprised to feel it turn all of the way.

Without making a sound, he slowly pushed the door open and slipped inside, holding his gun up to the ready. The house was silent save for a small clicking noise coming from the back that Dean interpreted as being Bobby picking the back door. He crept through the dark room and slid along the wall of a narrow hallway, he turned into the first open door and flashed his gun out ahead of him, scanning the room.

It was empty save for a twin sized bed. The blankets and sheets were messed up and as he approached it, he made out the broken post, the nightstand with the broken glass and an empty syringe laying next to it. Ropes lay discarded on the mattress, stained dark. He picked one up, finding it slick with moisture. Feeling the wetness between his fingers, he looked at them and knew right off what it was: blood. His own blood ran cold as anger flared up inside of him.

_This bitch is gonna pay. _He vowed to himself and to his absent brother. Dean could feel almost feel that his brother had been in this room, but had managed somehow to break free. But where was he now?

A sound from behind him had him whirling and he breathed a sigh of relief seeing that it was Bobby. He gave the other man a questioning look that asked, _did you find anything?_

Bobby shook his head as he took in the room as well. Dean held up the rope for the older man to see and Bobby scowled at it.

"The house is empty, Dean." Bobby whispered to him. "But if she took him somewhere else, it wasn't long ago, there's still something cooking in the oven."

"Yeah, and this blood is still fresh. And look at the bedpost. If that doesn't scream Sam in escape mode, I don't know what does."

"But that also means that she could be after him right now."

"Then we better go and find him first."

OOOOO

Pulling into the 24 hr gas station, Alicia got out of the truck and hurried to make her purchases. Choosing a bottle of aspirin, some cokes and a can of chicken noodle soup she checked out and headed back outside.

Once in the truck, she suddenly felt all of the exhaustion of the last couple of days catch up with her. Her head still ached from the blow Sam had given her with the lamp, but she could forgive him for that. He had just been scared and confused, after she nursed him back to health, fed him some of the soup and showed him that she was only trying to help him then he would start to come around. Then maybe he would begin to see her differently, then maybe he would love her as much as she loved him.

She hadn't slept in almost two days and the drive back was long and lonely. Fearing that she might fall asleep at the wheel, she decided that maybe a few minutes of rest would refresh her enough for the return trip. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes, meaning to nap for just a few minutes.

She had only been out for just a minute when something told her to wake up, that something was wrong and when she opened her eyes she was startled to see that she was not alone in the truck.

Gasping at unexpected intruder, she panicked and tried to open the door to escape, but it was locked and trying to pull up the lock was impossible.

"Sorry, Kiddo. You're stuck here with me for the moment." The man sitting next to her in the passenger seat calmly explained. He turned his face towards her and grinned. She nearly screamed seeing the bright yellow of his eyes that seemed to radiate their own light within the darkened vehicle.

"Oh my God. Please don't hurt me." She pleaded with him. He laughed as she shrank back against the door.

"Calm down, I'm not gonna hurt you, in fact you're still asleep. I just want to have a little chat with you, that's all."

She wasn't comforted by his words at all, she could feel the malice and evil in his voice, she wanted to run away, but there was nowhere to go. She was trapped.

"Who?....Who are you?"

"Aww. That's not important, Sweetcheeks. But, I know you, I know what you can do and I know that you've caught yourself a Sam Winchester. Nice one, by the way. I've got people that work for me that haven't been able to do half as good a job as you did getting your hands on that boy."

"What do you want from me?"

"I just want to help you, that's all. You and little Sammy have a lot in common, you know. He's got abilities just like you."

Alicia made a surprised face, she hadn't seen that when she saw into his past. "Yeah." The yellow-eyed man continued. "He see the future, you see the past. You're like yin and yang-opposites. But you now what they say about opposites, don't ya?"

"Now listen, kid. You're gonna wake up soon and I want you to high-tail it back to your little dead granny's house because I've got something I want you to do for me."

"What, why should I help you?" The yellow-eyed man sighed in exasperation and muttered something about kids these days being so block-headed.

"Because I can give you what you want. You want Sam to love you, but you know what? He's not gonna do that unless you get rid of that brother of his. You'd be doing us both a favor, you know as well as I do that Dean is a dangerous man, he needs to die. Ya think you can do that for me? 'Cause, if you do, the rewards for you will be astronomical- you might even be able to get Sam to fall in love with you. Now how does that sound?"

She had to admit to herself that she would do anything for that to happen. "Alright." She agreed. "I'll do it, just make Sam love me." She begged.

The man grinned again and nodded."Good girl. Now, you make sure that gun in your purse is loaded and you drive your ass as fast as you can back home, because I'm telling you that Dean is already on his way to your house and you need to get to him before he gets to Sam."

"Okay." She nodded quickly, still feeling intimidated by the strange man's presence.

In a flash she was awake again from her dream, gasping as she sat up, alone again in the truck. The yellow-eyed man's words echoed in her head and she hastily reached for her purse and pulled out the little gun she had bought and checked to make sure it was loaded before she threw the truck into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot, breaking all speed limits to make it home.

OOOOO

Rain hit his face, waking him up from the fog that surrounded him. He groaned and rolled to his side, feeling every muscle and bone in his body ache. He coughed uncontrollably, his chest tightening, struggling to breathe past the phloem as he wheezed.

He panted as soon as the spasms exploding through him subsided and he looked around. His head hurt immesuably and he touched his hand to his forhead pulled his hand away to see the blood that stained them.

Looking around in confusion, he couldn't recall how he ended up there. Where was he? Had he and Dean been hunting something? His mind was a blank as he looked around, surrounded by trees, nature and the pelting rain.

Was it another wendigo they were looking for? No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't remember.

Obviously, he was in a woods somewhere, but where was Dean? What if he was in trouble? He had to find him. Unsteadlily he brought himself to his feet, shivering from the cold as a chill coursed through his frame. God, he felt awful and his stomach told him he was going to be sick, but he didn't have time for that now. Dean was out there somewhere in the woods, possibly in danger.

He didn't know where to start. To one side was a steep incline and to the other the forest loomed large and deep. Mentally flipping a coin in his head, he headed in the direction of the trees, bracing himself for the stab of pain in his head he knew would come as he shouted.

"DEAN!"

TBC.....


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: **We're finally coming to some whumpage for Dean too in this chapter and I'm just gonna apologize ahead of time for the cliffie at the end, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Thanks again for all of your reviews and comments, I appreciate each one. :D_

**Chapter 9**

Digging into his coat pocket, Dean retrieved the small flashlight he had hidden in there as he walked out of the front door. He flicked it on and shined it on the ground, illuminating puddles rippling with the falling rain and wind. Lightening and thunder crashed yet again, letting them know that the storm was here to stay for the foreseeable future, so he turned his coat collar up and walked down the porch steps, scanning the ground.

"There, Bobby." He pointed. There were two sets of tracks. One small, leading to tire tracks while the other was much larger, heading up the dirt drive.

"Looks like she took off in the truck while Sam's prints keep going. He's on foot." The older, more experienced hunter noted.

"Knowing him, he stuck to the road, but stayed near the tree line so he wouldn't be seen." Dean flashed his flashlight ahead, tracking the footprints, seeing that Sam's continued on towards the edge of the road, confirming his belief that his brother was still out there.

"But we didn't see him coming in."

"He wouldn't know it was us. He probably hid, he might be to the main road by now. C'mon." Dean gestured for Bobby to follow him, keeping his eyes on the prints as he walked, unfazed by the escalating windy storm.

They kept along Sam's clear footprints until they made it to the El Camino.

"I was thinking that one of us should take the car on ahead, if that chick comes back and sees it, she'll know something's up."

"Yeah." Bobby agreed. "I'll take it and see if Sam has made it back to the main road yet. You can keep along the tracks in case he's still hiding out there."

Dean gave Bobby a quick nod and tossed the car keys to Bobby, taking off again along the dirt path while Bobby started up the engine of the El Camino and continued up the road without him. Dean was focused on the prints still, his eyes tracking just as his dad had taught him to when he was just a young boy. Back when he was six or seven, it had been like a game to him, one of the few that his dad ever played with him. Find the deer or the rabbit just by taking note of the crushed leaves and snapped twigs. It wasn't so much a game now as it was a tool for finding all the fugly things and dangerous creatures that they sought. At least, he thought to himself, Sam's feet were so ginormous now that he was easy to follow, a lot easier than those rabbits had been when he was a boy. That is until the prints suddenly disappeared.

He turned left and right with his flashlight. His prints weren't on the road any longer, so he shone his light to the shoulder again. He saw a large rock, recently upturned from a lodged position then saw the sharp drop off past the shoulder.

"Shit."He muttered. The hill was littered with broken twigs and disturbed leaves. Something either fell or ran down the hill and the something was most likely is brother heading into the woods. Dean hurried down the hill, slipping on the wet grass and leaves until he made it to the bottom. He didn't like what he saw when he got there. A large downed tree lay right where any falling body could have hit it. But there was no Sam, giving him hope that his brother was still out there, perhaps just hiding.

"SAM?!" He bellowed deep from the diaphragm, trying to make his voice heard above the thunder and wind. There was no return voice, but Dean turned his tracking skills back on and saw the path of disturbed leaves that marked Sam's possible route.

He stopped suddenly and thought he heard something above the din of the storm and yelling again for his brother, he focused all his hearing on any sound coming his way. It was distant, but he was certain he could hear Sam's voice echoing back to him.

"Hold on, Sammy! I'm coming!"

OOOO

Bobby turned the old beast of a car onto the blacktop, skidding slightly on the wet road, backtracking the way they had come from the city, keeping his eyes wide open for any sign of Sam's tall form along the road. He kept it up for a couple of miles, not knowing how far Sam might have made it on foot by now. He was too far away and going int the wrong direction to see the headlights of his own truck come up from behind him and turn onto the dirt road he had just come from only minutes ago.

OOOOO

Alicia fishtailed on the wet pavement, burning rubber onto the asphalt as she wildly swung the top-heavy truck onto the dirt road leading to her grandmother's house. She had been so stupid to bring Sam there she realized now, but was too late to change anything about that now. It would have been too easy for someone to track her down to the address, she should have just found a no-tell-motel somewhere instead, but she just hadn't been thinking straight enough at the time.

She gunned the accelerator and charged ahead until the headlights of the truck hit the house. She shut down the engine swiftly and reached over for her purse, pulling out the gun that the yellow-eyed man had reminded her was there. So far, there wasn't any sign that anyone had been to the house, but she wasn't going to take any chances, so she held the gun firmly in her hands as she fled the truck and headed for the front door.

Out of breath, she swung the door open wide. The house was dark, but whether that was from the storm or from the fact that she hadn't paid the electric bill in months was of little concern to her. She needed to get to Sam.

"Sam?" She called out as soon as she was inside. The house was quiet, scarily so. Her heart thumped in her chest when she ran to the bedroom and saw the destruction that had been reaped on the bedpost.

"Shit!" Sam was gone. The clothes and boots she had neatly piled were gone as well. She was too late. Dean must have gotten to Sam first, either that or Sam had broken the bed himself and escaped. She felt anger and betrayal swell up inside until it burst.

"No!" She screamed out loud, her voice reverberating through the small room.

She raced back to the living room and to the front door. Then she saw the foot prints. Four sets of them. One was clearly hers, being the smallest while the largest set headed towards the tree-lined dirt road, but they looked older than the other sets, the edges of them eroded by the rain.

Hope filled her then. What if Sam had escaped, his brother had come to find him, but he was already gone?

Then, above the noise of the wind, rain and thunder she heard something that gave her hope: Her Sam's voice. It was faint, but it was there. Her stomach dropped a second later however, when she heard another voice, equally as faint, but clearly not Sam's. It was Dean.

Her blood boiled with swift moving anger. How dare he try to take Sam away from her? The yellow-eyed man, whether he was real or a figment of her imagination was right; Dean had to die.

Stuffing the gun into the waistband of her jeans like she's seen in the movies, she sets off at a run. She knows these woods like the back of her hand and if anyone was going to get to Sam first, it damn sure wasn't going to be that brother of his.

OOOOO

Stumbling ungracefully over another downed tree limb and landing on his knees, Sam cursed how uncoordinated he was. His feet weren't cooperating with the commands of his brain, tripping over almost everything in his path.

His lungs were exhausted from shouting Dean's name and he just didn't think he had any breath in him left to yell anymore.

Wheezing slightly he pushed himself off the ground again as he coughed a deep, chest-rattling bark, making him wonder amusingly when the sea lions had decided to move from the ocean to the forest.

Finally making it to his feet again, he looked around. He was so lost. Normally, he was pretty good with land-navigation, even in the dark. But he was so confused, he had no clue where he was, which was was north or which way was south. He had already searched his pockets, finding them empty, his cell-phone was gone and calling for help or using his built-in GPS was out of the picture. His father had taught him how to find where you were by the moon and the stars, but with the storm continuing to swirl above, the cloud cover was too great for that to be of any help.

Coughing raggedly again, the cloud of fog in his brain failed to clear any more than it had when he first woke up on the wet ground. God, why couldn't he remember anything? It was all just a blur of confusing images and Jeez did his wrists hurt. He looked down at his hands, seeing the red and raw skin. Had he been tied up? His mind swirled with possible scenarios. Was Dean tied up somewhere too then?

The urge to find his brother increased with every step through the dark woods. He was dizzy, exhausted and wondering why the ground tilted and wouldn't stop moving as though he was standing on an old pirate ship. But stopping was not an option. Holding his arms across his chest in a tight self-embrace, willing the chills racing through him to go away he just wished he could warm the hell up, then maybe finding Dean wouldn't be so damn hard. And why was it so cold anyway, wasn't it August?

Then he realizes he's not sure if it's even August anymore, or what day it is. And shit, does his head feel like a railroad spike is being pounded into it.

But he keeps going. Keeps sending one foot in front of the other, making enough noise to wake the dead or whatever they where hunting, with the coughing that was now out of his control. He thought about stopping as another spasm ripped through his chest. It was sure tempting and he really, really just wanted to lie down and rest despite the rain, and let it suck him into a deep oblivion.

But how could he? If Dean was looking for him he wouldn't stop, not even if he was injured, sick or confused, he'd keep going and that's what Sam would do too.

He wasn't sure how long he kept up the pace, he just knew he had to keep his feet moving, but they're ungainly as though they've enlarged four sizes. They find yet another root or tree branch or whatever crap is lying on the forest floor that he didn't see to catch on and he's sprawling yet again to the ground.

Winded, he laid there trying to find the energy to get back up again when it would be so much easier to just give in to his screaming headache and allow his noisome breathing to get some oxygen back into his lungs. He watches the rain fall in fat droplets towards his face in fascination for a moment, reminding him of a 3-D movie, all those raindrops coming right at him and falling on his head.

Then a song strikes up it's chorus in his brain and he's powerless to stop it from infecting him with a major case of earworm.

_Oh, raindrops keep fallin' on my head._

_But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon by turning red, cryin's not for me. _

_Oh, I'll never gonna stop the rain by complainin'_

He chuckles to himself thinking about that stupid song. If Dean had been in his head right then he would have just made some reference to that time they watched _Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid _and declared the scene with them riding the bike against the background of B.J. Thomas' smooth voice the gayest of all western movies scenes. Then he would tease him mercilessly for singing along.

He's still laying there, listening to the song repeat the same line over and over again in his head when a sound that didn't belong to the thunder or the rain hit his ears. It was a voice. Far away, yet so close... It was Dean, he was sure of it.

"Dean!" He yelled back, hoping beyond hope that his brother would be able to hear him, despite how weak his own voice sounded to his ears. He held his breath as he listened carefully for Dean's voice again and there it was, calling back. He thought he could make out a "_Sammy...coming."_ and that was enough for him to get his body back into motion. Pushing up on arms that were shaking with the effort, he puts all of his will into getting to his feet again, turning himself towards the sound of Dean's voice, holding himself tight and focusing on moving his too large feet.

_Once again,_ he bolsters himself, _this time with feeling._

OOOOO

Her legs burn right along with her lungs as she sprints towards the sound of the two brothers calling for each other. She was never much of a runner nor an athelte and she never had been the one to try-out for any of the sports teams in high school, but she flew through the brush and trees like an olympic sprinter.

As she grows closer to the shouting, she's torn at first who she try to get to first- Dean or Sam?

If she made it to Dean first, then she could take him out of the picture and then find Sam. But if she didn't head for Sam first, then it was possible that Dean might find him first and she didn't want to dispatch his brother right in front of Sam, it would be a lot easier to shoot him without him being near.

So then she's decided.

And she runs for the sound of Dean's voice.

OOOO

Bobby is frustrated. With the windshield wipers that still won't work, with the relentless rain, with the Winchester's and their never-ending run of bad luck and most of all that he hasn't seen any sign of Sam yet. He's gone almost four miles from the dirt road when he decides that enough is enough, that Sam couldn't possibly have made it this far from the house on foot and it's time to double back and try the opposite direction.

He pulls a U-turn, squealing tires in the process and charges back, this time even faster. Coming up to the dirt road, he spotted something with his finely-tuned hunter's eyes. Even in the dark with the rain coating the road and only one headlight to illuminate the dark, he can see it.

Tire tracks.

Black rubber burned onto the pavement recently, turning into the dirt road.

"Shit." He mutters as he spins the wheel to turn back onto the dirt road. "I'm really getting too old for this crap."

OOOO

Dean is running now through the woods, uncaring of how soaked he is, dodging twigs that try their darnedest to snap in his face and hurtling over fallen limbs like he's OJ Simpson in those old Hertz commercials. His heart pumps adrenaline into his limbs, sends him charging single-mindedly ahead to find his brother.

He stops in a small clearing, listening carefully again for the sound of Sam's voice, trying to pick it out over the noisy storm. He can hear him distantly and is about to start off again when his ears pick up the sound of leaves crunching rapidly. He's sure it isn't Sam, his voice is still too far away and his hackles raise, causing an almost Pavlovian reaction within him to pull his gun out from the back of his jeans where he stashed it and release the safety, his finger hovering over the trigger.

Scanning the trees, his eyes are alert for any movement. He thinks that he sees a flash of color slip behind a tree and he raises the weapon. It's her.

Dean thought he was ready for anything. Confident that his years of training and experience, sharpened and honed since he was old enough to hold a gun steady, would trump any baddie, ghost, ghoul or mo-fo out there, but when confronted with the actuality of firing on the girl trying poorly to conceal herself behind the tree, he hesitated.

He reminds himself that he killed things that went bump in the night, not dorky girls with glasses that he wouldn't give a second glance to if her had seen her walking on the street. She was no monster from all outward appearances, even though he knew that looks could be deceiving, but he still held his finger back from wrapping around the cool steel and pulling the trigger. He doesn't kill girls, he kills monsters.

"Hey!" He yells to her, "I can see you, come on out!"

The only answer he receives is the the sound of a gun discharging and as fraction of a second later he's finding that any hesitation he felt before has puffed away on a cloud of rage and he's firing back. But it's too late, his shot goes up instead of forward as he's already falling, pain blossoming, sharp and red-hot through his arm, causing him to reflexively drop the gun, the impact throwing him backwards until he lands with a thud and stars dance across his view.

He grunts with the effort to get back up, his fight or flight instincts kicking into fight mode and suddenly he doesn't care if she's just a normal, human girl. He thinks about what she might have done to Sam and he sees only red.

She's on him faster than he would have thought her short legs were capable and grabs his gun up from the ground before reach it, aiming it at his head.

"You bitch." He grinds out, using his uninjured arm's hand to hold his throbbing arm tight to his side, blood seeping through his fingers as dark spots tunnel in on his vision.

"You can't have him." She yells at him as she stands towering over him, her eyes glittering dangerously in a way that he knows without a doubt that she's not even remotely on this planet anymore. "He's mine."

He's already feeling woozy and fuzzy-headed from the blood loss when she cocks the gun. He has it in mind to tackle her, but his body won't cooperate quick enough and he can only close his eyes in anticipation as another shot rings out through the trees.

TBC.......


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry for the long wait, I had another story that I needed to finish, but I'm thinking that this one should be all wrapped up in the next chapter. Anyhoo, thanks for keeping up with this story and I hope that you like this latest installement. :D_

**Chapter 10**

Dean was expecting death...a bright white light, angels playing harps and pearly gates opening up or even cold, dark nothingness, but not this. He didn't expect to still be breathing but it didn't take him long to for him to come to his senses and realize that it hadn't been Alicia that fired the gun.

He flung his eyes open and saw the girl lying on the ground, writhing in pain, whimpering and moaning pathetically. As much as his body protested the sudden movement, he gathered what was left of his flagging strength and reached for the weapons she had dropped when she fell.

Vaguely, he registered the sounds of running footsteps heading his way, but it was all background noise to him, his vision had tunneled in on his one source of swelling anger and rage, fixing on the image of the woman trying to get up. From the stains of white powder covering her shirt, he knew that she had only been hit by rock salt and he wished at that moment that Bobby had filled his shotgun with real bullets. She may be in pain, but she could still be a threat and he wasn't about to let her get away.

He struggled to his feet, wavering as he pushed the encroaching greyness away, unwilling to give in to the darkness of unconsciousness. "Don't move." he trained the weapon on her. "or it'll be the last one you make."

"Please, please don't kill me....I only wanted to keep Sam safe, I swear."

"Safe from what? You kidnapped him and tied him up, how is that in anyway safe?" He asked belligerently.

"I was keeping him safe from you!" She spat out, taking Dean by surprise.

"Safe from me? You're buckets of crazy. I would never hurt Sam, ever."

"That's not true...I saw it, felt your anger...I heard it in your head...you think you might have to kill him." Something in her eyes told that she was telling what she believed to be true.

"What are you talking about, you felt it?" He yelled, the gun shaking in his hand, how could she possibly know that? True, he hadn't been able to get his father's last words to him out of his head, but he hadn't told a soul about it, not even Sam.

"When I touched you...I felt you...you're too dangerous to be around him." She hastily spat out. "He doesn't need you ...he needs to be with me."

"Shut. Up!" Dean shouted at her while his finger hovered over the trigger. Anger rolled through him, barreling across his synapses like a freight train and firing in all directions.

"Dean!" Bobby called out, running up to him. "Dean stop!"

Bobby tried to lay a restaining hand over Dean's outstretched arm. "It's over now, son."

"No it ain't, Bobby." Dean shook him off, maintaining his stance over her, the weapon aimed true to her heart.

Dean could feel his restraint slipping from his grasp. One little pull of the trigger and he wouldn't have to worry about this girl coming after Sam again, he wouldn't have to hear her throwing back the words of his father into his face. The rage was blinding and all-emcompassing. She had hurt him deep by taking Sam from him. But she was a human after all, no black eyes, no spewing bodily fluids like a witch, but she was different, psychic maybe, like Max had been...like Sammy?

He felt his anger slowly begin to drain from at that thought. Killing her would only reinforce Sam's belief that he would one day end up like Max or it just might prove to his little brother that he had gone completely off the deep end and become something for Sam to fear. Dean wasn't about to let that happen, he didn't think he could bear to see any mistrust or fear in his little brother's eyes because he had lost control of his anger.

Just then, a sound caught his ears, a rushing of leaves and a voice that had him turning away from the girl.

"Dean!" Sam suddenly appeared from the trees, breathing hard and looking far paler than he had ever seen him before. Relief washed over at him finally seeing his little brother as did a wave of dizziness. He felt the hand holding the gun drop to his side just as his knees buckled, unable to support his weight any longer before ground rushed up to greet his face.

OOOOO

Sam was still focusing on placing one foot in front of the other when he heard the first shot. Before his brain could catch up, his legs had decided to turn over into a full on sprint, propelling him forward with a burst of adrenaline and speed. Another shot rang out and he was in full-blown panic mode.

Surging forward with renewed strength and stamina, he tore up the distance, his once uncooperative and bumbling feet now deftly maneuvering over fallen limbs and slippery patches of leaves. His chest heaved with the exertion until he finally reached the source of the gun fire.

Crashing into a clearing, he saw Dean standing unsteadily, gun in one hand pointing it at a young girl laying on the ground with Bobby next to him, trying to hold him back. His fuzzy brain tried to comprehend the situation until he got a good look at her face, then it started to come back to him in flashes of memory. None of it was clear, but he knew now what he had been doing in a forest during a severe thunderstorm. He knew he had been trying to get away from her, the details were still too far out of reach for him, but they didn't matter, all that mattered was his brother standing only feet away looking as if he was about to drop.

"Dean!" He shouted to his brother. Dean turned at the sound of his voice and Sam saw the blood next as the weapon in his hand dropped to the ground. The next thing he knew, the color drained out of Dean's face and he wobbled before he began falling to the ground boneless.

He was running again as Bobby reacted and caught his big brother's decent before he faceplanted. Sam was by Dean's side in a flash, his eyes were closed, but to Sam's relief, he was breathing normally though bleeding fiercely from his arm, far more than he would have expected from a single gun shot wound.

Gently, Bobby lowered Dean to the ground. Afterward, Sam took over, tapping his face in hopes of rousing him. "Hey...hey, man. I got you...c'mon, Dean, wake up."

A grunt issued from the older man, but still his eyes remained closed. Sam shifted his focus instead on the wound seeping blood through Dean's jacket.

He looked across to Bobby with questions in his eyes, but asked the only practical one. "Bobby, got a knife?"

The older hunter nodded and handed a large hunting knife over. Sam made short work of slitting Dean's jacket sleeve up until he reached the wound. It wasn't a large entry wound, but it was bleeding profusely, spurting a little stronger with each beat of his big brother's heart. Carefully, Sam lifted the arm and checked the underside. He swore seeing the larger exit wound. It was good that the bullet had gone all the way through, yet at the same time, he was alarmed by how quickly the blood was gushing out.

"Damn, it must have hit an artery." Bobby muttered, echoing Sam's own thoughts. They had to stop this bleeding fast. Sam was about to whip off his own jacket to create some makeshift bandages, but Bobby stopped him. "You're soaked to the bone, Sam. I got it, I'll take care of Dean. You keep an eye on the girl."

Sam had almost forgotten about the girl still lying on the ground. Suddenly he was overwhelmed with anger. He had flashes of being tied up, of feeling fear and anger towards this girl. He still couldn't recall why, couldn't even remember her name, but he knew she was one that had caused all of this, who had shot his brother and his blood boiled with rage.

With every intention of coming back to his brother, he stood back up, ignoring the waves of dizziness that assaulted him and turned his attention to the girl. She looked up at him, her lips trembling.

"Sam, please... I had to stop him, it was the only way we could be together. I did it for us." Sam approached her, his fists balling up.

"There is no 'us'." The words spat out of Sam's mouth and with one swing, he laid her out cold. Normally, he had many reservations about hitting a woman, but there were times when exceptions could be made and this was one of those times. It wasn't just his anger fueling the punch though, he had to help Dean and he couldn't do that with that girl stilll awake and capable of bolting or attacking Dean again. He didn't feel good about doing it, but neither did feel guilty.

"Sam..." Sam turned to hear his brother's weak voice filled with pain, but now conscious and he rushed over to him, coming down to the wet ground on his knees beside Dean's side.

"God...you look like crap, Sammy." Dean ground out between his clenched teeth, his eyes glassy, but fixed on Sam. Bobby was still tying up his arm, blood soaking through the bandages he had made out of his own flannel shirt. "Gotta get ya outa here."

"I think it's youcthat needs to get out of here, Dean." Sam grinned seeing his brother grunt as he tried to sit up.

"Will you just hold still, you moron." Bobby groused as he finished knotting the strip of flannel.

"God, Bobby. I'm fine, just help me up." Stubborn as always and unwilling to accept his own limitations, Sam knew that Dean wasn't about to let anyone carry him out of the woods.

"I got him, Bobby." Sam insisted, taking hold of Dean's good arm and hauling him up, both of them groaning and grunting from the exertion.

"Ya sure?" Bobby eyed him with concern as though he was taking in his appearance for the first time. "Dean's right...you look like death warmed over." Sam had to admit that he probably did look a sight. He could still feel the blood dripping down his face from his run-in with the fallen tree and he was shivering uncontrollable now as the adrenaline that had fueled him before seeped out and left him feeling cold and exhausted. But Dean was in worse shape than him and they had the girl to out of the forest as well, something Bobby wouldn't be able to do on his own.

"I'm fine. I got Dean if you get the girl."

"Fine." Bobby grumbled, swearing under his breath as bent over then hauled the unconscious girl off the ground, pulling her into a fireman's carry over his shoulder.

"I don't need to be carried." Dean complained as Sam grabbed hold of Dean's waist, but just as he said that, his knees buckled and Sam had to hold tight to keep his big brother from dropping to the ground again.

"Yeah, right. Just hold onto me, will ya?" Sam came back. Dean grumbled, but put his good arm around Sam's shoulder and allowed his little brother to carry most of his weight.

OOOOO

Some rescue this was turning out to be, thought Dean miserably as the plodded slowly though the woods. He was the one that was supposed to be doing the rescuing, but Sam had managed to get himself out his bonds and escape and now he was the one getting his ass hauled out of the woods by the very brother he was supposed to be saving.

He hated that he needed Sam to provide support for his rubbery legs, but at the same time, he was just glad to have him back by his side.

Sam kept shooting him worried looks like he was going to keel over at any time and while he felt like doing just that, he wasn't going to let himself pass out now. His little brother himself wasn't looking too hot and he wasn't about to let him carry him out of the forest the same way Bobby was carrying that girl out.

Dean glanced again over at his brother. He was worried, the bruise and cut on his head looked pretty bad and given the way that Sam walked unsteadily and tripping over his feet, he might have another concussion. To add to his ratcheting worry, Sam was trembling and breathing hard in a deep, wheezy rasp. They had had to stop a few times already so he cough a lung up and with the heat Dean could feel emanating from him despite the wet clothing, he was even more determined to get the hell out of dodge and back to the motel room where he could properly take care of his sibling like he should after he got him out of the hospital.

"You okay?" Sam asked for about the thousanth time.

"Peachy." Dean came back tersely. In all honesty, it was getting harder and harder to a hold to consciousness. He hurt with every step, his arm throbbed white hot and the nauseous woozy feeling was growing. He couldn't really understand how one little gunshot wound to the arm was fucking him up so, he'd been shot before and while they always hurt like a bitch, he couldn't fathom why he was so weak this time around.

"Almost there." Sam informed him, coughing again before stumbling over yet another branch and almost sending both of them down.

"Jesus, Sam...need a break?"

Sam just shook his head and gripped Dean tighter. God, but the kid was stubborn. Bobby was already to his truck by the time Sam and Dean made it through the woods and was unloading his burden into the passenger seat, tying her hands with a cord as she was starting to come to and cursing Bobby, but the older hunter, slammed the door shut against her tirade.

By this time, Dean's vision was greying and he couldn't help Sam support his weight any longer. He was vaguely aware of Bobby and Sam discussing what to do with the girl and what to do next.

"I'll figure out what to do with her, you get your brother to the hospital and I'll meet you there after I take of her."

Hospital? Dean lifted his head up from Sam's shoulder at that. "I don' need th' ospital." He said, finding it odd how slurred his speech was and how disconnected he felt from it.

"Dean, you're bleeding bad, man. Bobby and I can't patch that up, you hit an artery. You're going." Sam was firm as he guided him over to the El Camino and helped him inside.

"Geez, Dean. Was it too much to ask for to find a car that at least had a door?" Sam complained, seeing the pathetic excuse for a car before him.

"Better n' walkin." Dean mumbled back, feeling more than seeing himself being lowered inside and strapped in tight as if he might fall out. A second later Sam was in the driver's seat and pulling him closer towards him. He didn't even realize that he had begun to close his eyes and lean forward.

"Hey man, stay with me here. Just lean into me, I don't want you passing out and eating asphalt when you fall out."

Dean wasn't sure if he answered his brother with a witty comeback or not, but the last thing he was aware of was his head resting on Sam's shoulder and the rumble of the engine as they took off into the night.

OOOOO

Dean had passed out again, sending Sam's heart into a panic as he drove. So far, he himself had managed to stay with it, to ignore the burning sensation in his chest, the shaking of his hands and the ferocious pounding in his head as he gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline.

Thankfully, Bobby had told him about a shortcut to the local hospital before he took off and giving the way Dean was bleeding all over the interior of the car, every second he could shave off was necessary.

His foot floored the accelerator and he held onto his brother's arm, still worried about him actually falling out the non-existent door as he took a sharp turn one-handed, flying into the hospital parking lot.

He pulled the car up to the emergency entrance and was surprised and grateful to see a man in scrubs just outside the doors. "Please, you gotta help me." Sam yelled as he jumped out of the car and ran to the other side to get to his brother. The man was beside him in a moment's time and helped Sam maneuver Dean out. Together they pulled him out and carried him to the doors. The bright, white light inside almost blinded Sam as the entered, sending a spike a pain into his head, but it was quickly pushed aside as the man helping him with his brother called out for help.

In a flurry of activity that made Sam dizzy, nurses, a doctor and a gurney appeared, loading Dean up and rushing him past him to a set of double doors, He made to follow, but was held back by a nurse with a clipboard and ordered to fill out some forms for treatment.

All he wanted was to make sure Dean was going to be alright, but the woman standing in front of him, blocking his way could have given Nurse Ratchet a run for her money in the intimidation department and was insistent that he sit and fill out the paperwork. Knowing that arguing with her wouldn't get him any closer to Dean led him to comply and take the clipboard the nurse held out to him.

Wearily, he made his way over to a seat then sat and stared at the papers in his hands, the words blurring in front of his eyes, barely making any sense through his muzzy mind.

Suddenly he was just so tired, his head and heart pounded part from pain and part from worry over Dean. Concentrating on forming letters to fill out the paperwork was nearly impossible, even the pen felt too heavy in his fingers and it dropped from his hand several times while he tried to write without letting the trembling in them take over.

"You okay, Sir?" A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up into the eyes of clipboard nurse. This time instead of looking intimidating, her eyes shown bright with concern.

"M'fine." He mumbled, surprising even himself at how difficult the words seemed to come from his mouth.

"You look like you're about to pass out and believe me, I've been working her for twenty years and I know the look. I could have a doctor take a look at that cut on your head."

"Said, I'm fine." He repeated with a little more venom and irritation than he knew he should have. "'Sorry." He apologized to the nurse who had taken on a hurt expression. "I just want to see my brother."

"I'll go see what I can find out. Sit here, you can finish the forms later."

She was gone before he could thank her, disappearing behind the double set of swinging doors that Dean had gone through just minutes ago. He shut his eyes for the briefest of moments as the room had begun to sway like he one too many shots of tequila and he had to force his stomach to keep from revolting.

He must have kept his eyes shut a lot longer than he thought because the next thing he knew a hand was shaking his shoulder and he looked up again to see the nurse had returned.

"How is he?" He asked her.

"Well, he should live. Looks like the bullet that hit him struck the brachial artery which the doctors have clamped for now and stopped the bleeding. He's being prepped for surgery right now and it looks like they're gonna have to put a pin or two to fix his humerus, which was also fractured. All in all though, he should be fine, but he'll be in a pretty hefty cast for a few weeks."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, triggering a massive coughing attack, this one worse than any he had had before and sending spikes of pain all the way from deep inside his chest up to the top of his head. He gasped and struggled to find his breath again, but he was losing out as the cough just wouldn't quit. Spots danced before his eyes lie fireflies in a dark night. Distantly he heard raised voices until the last thing he felt was a pair of hands catching him by the shoulders before he hit the hard, tile floor.

TBC....


	11. Chapter 11 and Epilogue

_A/N: Well, here it is, the final chapter to this story. I just wanted to thank everyone that has been following along and for all of your feedback and comments. Each one of you is the bomb! Anyhoo, I've had a good time writing this and I hope you enjoy this last installment. :D_

**Chapter 11**

"Hey... quit sawin' logs over there... M'tryin t'sleep."

Bobby woke with a snort, surprised at himself for drifting off to sleep despite the standard uncomfortableness of the lounge chair he had dragged closer to Dean's bed. The kid was white as a ghost, the dark circles under his eyes only punctuating the paleness of his skin. His eyes remained closed, but the old hunter knew the boy was no longer asleep, allowing Bobby to let loose a quiet sigh of relief.

"God, Kiddo...thought you'd be asleep a while longer."

"Kinda hard...you snore even louder than Sam." Dean opened his eyes and winced a little as he shifted in the bed and tried to sit up. Suddenly aware of the pain shooting through his arm and the bulky weight of the cast encasing his right arm all the way from shoulder to mid-forearm, he took in blue, sling that held his arm tight to his chest.

"There _are_ bed controls, you idjit." Bobby grumbled as he pressed the button to raise Dean's head up. Dean looked around the room, expecting to see one more man in the room, asleep in the other chair or racked out in the empty bed beside of him, but it was just him and Bobby occupying the space.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked, his anxiety ratcheting up, especially after Bobby looked down at his shoes and failed to meet his eye. "What's wrong?"

"Well Sam...he's uh..."

"What Bobby?...he's what?"

"Well, he's pretty sick."

"What?" Dean threw off the blanket covering him and swung his legs of the side of the bed. "Where is he?"

"Whoa. Now, slow your roll there..." Bobby made to stop Dean from getting out of bed, but the younger man wasn't having any of it.

"Show me where he is Bobby." Dean insisted, grimacing as he forced himself up.

"Dean, you just woke up two minutes ago. You've had surgery and a blood transfusion."

"Your point?"

"Dammit, Boy." Bobby had to grab Dean's good arm before he fell over, practically pushing him back down onto the bed. "Stay put will ya?. Sam's gonna be okay, he's in a room just down the hall."

He fought a stab of pain in his arm and the lightheadedness that assaulted him. Dean couldn't imagine sitting in the bed any longer knowing that Sam was somewhere in the hospital and needed him, but Bobby was a force to be reckoned with.

"What's wrong with him?" Dean had to know, remembering the massive bruise on his forehead and hot feel of his little brother's skin as he hauled Dean out of the forest.

"He has a touch of pneumonia and got himself yet another concussion. He's pretty out of it right now, so there really isn't much point in killing yourself to go see him yet."

Dean looked Bobby directly in the eyes and knew that there was something else that the older man wasn't telling him. "There's more than that, isn't there, Bobby?"

Bobby glanced down and dean knew he had been right. "Well...sort-of. The doctors ran some tests and they found traces of drugs in Sam's system. Ketamine, I think it was."

"Ketamine? Don't they tranquilize horses with that shit?"

"Yeah...they say the stuff is working it's way out. Kinda explains how a 5 foot nothing girl was able to tie up your ginormous brother though."

"That bitch..." Dean's face took on a whole knew expression of wrathful. "What'd you do with her?"

"Don't worry. She's taken care of. While your brother was taking you to the hospital, I took Alicia back over to my place, just to make sure wasn't possessed or anything. She wasn't, but she said some pretty...well, interesting things."

"Like what?"

"It was weird. While I was dragging her inside, she started telling me things about myself...things that I've never told anyone."

"So, she is some kind of psychic...like Sam?"

"Yeah and that's not all she told me. Apparently, Sam saved her from the bus crash, pulled her out and she got it in her messed up head that she was in love with him, that they were somehow destined to be together. Then she said that she ran into you at the hospital and thought you might be a danger to him so she concocted her plan to kidnap Sam. But, here's the part where it gets really nuts. She said that she met a yellow-eyed man who told her to kill you if she wanted to keep Sam to herself. I'm guessing that's why she took the shot at you. Good thing her aim was bad or well... ya know."

Dean swallowed hard. "Shit..."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dean felt a massive headache coming on. That damned yellow-eyed bastard was after him and his brother again. The day when he could wrap his hands around that demon's throat and choke the life out of him couldn't come soon enough.

"Yeah...that about puts it mildly."

"And she just told you all of this?"

"Yeah. She wouldn't stop talking. I think she thought I was gonna kill her."

"Where is she now?"

"Well...I took her to the police." Bobby confessed somewhat sheepishly.

"What! Are you insane?"

"What else was I supposed to do with her?. I couldn't keep there and I wasn't about to let her go. Told 'em I caught her stealing my truck, which is at least partially true. Though once I took her into the station, she started ranting and putting up a fuss. Enough so that one of the deputies told me that they would be taking her over to Penfield for a 72 hour psychiatric hold. I'm assuming that's where she is now and given the state of mind or lack thereof she was in that that is where she'll be staying for quite some time."

"Does Sam know she's a psychic or that she met Yellow-eyes?"

"I don't think so. He was still in and out of consciousness last time I checked on him."

"If he doesn't ask. Don't tell him, 'kay, Bobby? Please. He doesn't need to know that another one those kids like him has gone off the deep end. We got enough to worry about without him thinking that he's gonna become like them. 'Cause it ain't gonna happen, not while I'm still breathing."

Bobby nodded. "Sure, Kid." Bobby stood up from his chair and stretched some of the kinks out of his body. "Look, I'm gonna go check on Sam again..."

"I'm coming with."

"Hey, what part of stay in bed don't you get?"

"Shut up, Bobby and just help me get there."

Bobby saw that there was no way he was going to be able to keep Dean laying in bed when he knew that Sam was ill. So, the older hunter just grumbled "Fine, but you're not walkin', let me get a wheelchair."

After tracking down a wheelchair and a coercing a nurse to help him with Dean's IV's, Bobby started pushing Dean down the hospital corridor towards Sam's room.

Dean hated being so weak that he couldn't walk, but as they passed under a sign announcing that they had arrived at the ICU, his worried hitched up, his pain and fatigue forgotten. "ICU, Bobby? I thought you said he was doing okay?"

"He is. He's stable, but the doctors were pretty worried about the combo of head injury, chest infection and drugs so they're keeping him here until he's completely coherent so they can keep a close watch on him."

Dean wasn't totally relieved to here that. He needed to see for himself how Sam was before he'd believe that his brother was going to be okay.

"Just get me in there."

Bobby did as he asked and pushed Dean into a room surrounded by monitors and equipment, it's lone occupant lying still and motionless in the bed. Pale faced, the massive bruise on Sam's forehead shone brightly against his whiter than normal skin while a nasal canula fed oxygen into his lungs. Dean choked back the lump in his throat as Bobby pushed the wheelchair up to the bed.

Dean reached his good hand up and gently brush a lock of stray hair out of Sam's eyes, feeling the heat of his skin against his fingertips. "He feels hot." Dean commented.

"It's the fever." A voice informed him, Dean turned to see a man in a white coat walk into the room. "Sorry. You must be Dean. Bobby here has explained to me how you two ended up here."

Dean looked over to Bobby with questions in his eyes and the older man began to fill him in. "Dean, this is Dr. Accolay, we've known each other for years. He knows a thing or two about the work we do."

"Really?" If Dean's eyebrows could have raised any higher they would have been in his hairline. Bobby's connections never ceased to amaze the younger man.

"Yeah. George here has been patching me up longer than you've been alive. I called him in on a favor and he's taken on you boys' care, especially since you were shot and Sam had all of those drugs pumped into him, we didn't want the police to get involved and he's been covering for you two."

Dean looked back and forth between the two men and saw the shared nods. Dean had never been one to trust doctors, but if Bobby put his confidence this one then Dean could as well, especially if he could help Sam.

"My brother...He's gonna be okay?" Dean turned his attention back to Sam, still laying asleep next to him.

"He's already doing a lot better than I would have suspected." Dr. Accolay replied. "I was worried at first that the blow to his head might have caused some bleeding into his brain, but the scans were clear. His fever is going down as well, but he's still confused when he wakes up and doesn't seem to remember much of how he got , soon he'll be a little more lucid, but he just needs some time to rest and heal. As do you, you should be back in bed."

Dean sighed and growled in frustration. Now he could see how he and Bobby were such good friends, they were like two peas in a pod. "Screw that, Doc. I'm staying."

Bobby shrugged his shoulders and shook his head at the doctor. Once Dean's mind was made, nothing short of a nuclear explosion could change it and Bobby knew that arguing would be pointless when it came to Sam's care. Bobby just worried that one day, Dean's obsessive drive to protect Sam might get him killed one day.

"When can he get out of here?" Dean asked.

"You're both going to need a few more days."

Dean shot him a dirty look. "I'm good to go, Doc. You just get me my walking papers and..."

"Dean, don't be moron." Bobby cut in.

"I'm not leaving him. I need to be here when he wakes up again."

"Alright. How about a compromise. " The doctor offered. "I think Sam is doing well enough to be moved to a regular room. He can move to your room, but you stay in the hospital until I think you're ready to be discharged. How's that sound?"

"I like my idea better." Dean grumbled.

"Dean..." Bobby again grew exasperated.

"Fine."

"Good. I'll arrange for Sam to be moved."

"Okay, but I stay here until he wakes up." Dean insisted. The doctor just shook his head and gave Bobby a sympathetic look before he left, understanding a little more why the old hunter was always complaining about the two boys.

"Guess, you won't have to wait long then." Came a scratchy, hoarse and quiet voice from the bed. Dean turned back again to see two hazel eyes peeking out from narrow slits, blinking slowly as though his eyelids had lead weights attached to them.

"Hey, Sammy...How ya feeling?" As if in answer Sam began a rough round of coughing.

"Wonderful." Sam replied sarcastically after the fit subsided. Dean reached across to pour some water for his younger sibling, but with only one hand, he had a difficult time of trying to get the water into a cup without spilling everywhere. Finally, Bobby grabbed the pitcher of water out of Dean's hand and poured the water for him.

"It's like the blind leading the blind here." Bobby grumbled before he pushed a straw into the cup and handed it over to Sam.

"Thanks, Bobby." Sam responded before he took a few sips of water then laid back down on his pillow, looking exhausted from the effort it took it. Sam's eyes slid over to his brother, taking in the cast and sling that decorated his arm.

"You look terrible, Dean. I'm awake now and I'm fine. You should go to bed."

"Nah...I'm fine. Had worse." Sam wasn't buying it even a little bit. Dean looked about three shades too white and on the verge of collapse. "And you're about as fine as a horse's ass."

"Shuddup, Jerk" Sam came back softly, his eyes closing again, giving himself over again to sleep.

"Just make me, Bitch." Dean replied with a soft smile, ruffling Sam's shaggy hair.

It wasn't but a half hour later before Bobby was following Sam's gurney, wheeling a half-asleep Dean back to his room. The two brothers would stay there for the next three days, driving the poor old hunter nuts the entire time until he was able to finally take them home.

While the two of them seemed to be recovering nicely over those days physically and their brotherly bonds were reinforced by the close proximity to each other, the two still were far from being healed and they both still had buckets of issues to work out.

Bobby knew it would take time for the two of them to come to terms with their father's death, but at least they had each other and when the Winchester brothers were together, no force on Earth could break them.

**Epilogue**

Dr. Emily Rodriguez' heels clicked loudly, echoing across the walls as she walked down the cold, spartan hall of the hospital. Two interns and a nurse followed closely behind before she stopped and turned on the others behind her.

"So, who's our next patient, Dr. Michaels?" She asked.

The petite young woman she asked pulled out a chart and scanned it quickly, not wanting to upset her mentor by being unprepared. Dr. Rodriguez could be a hard one to please and she didn't want to be on her bad side this morning.

"Uh...Alicia Summers, age 23. She was dropped off here about a week ago by the Sioux county sheriff's department. She presented in a psychotic state and had deep bruising to her chest and a slight concussion. We're still not sure how she got the injuries, but both have healed nicely. Since she's arrived, she refused to speak to anyone for days and she's had a few incidents where she attacked some of the orderlies. But, she finally spoke yesterday to one of the nurses and told her that a man with yellow eyes asked her to kill a man named Dean and she's also been asking to see another man named Sam, but she couldn't give us any clue as to who they were or if they're even real. Given the delusions and hallucinations, my initial diagnosis is that she's suffering from schizophrenia. We currently have her on lithium and Xanax, but time will only tell if they have any effect."

"How about her family history. Any family that had Schizophrenia?"

"Not I could find. However, there were several reports with the police over the years about bruises the girl showed up to school with and CPS had a number of complaints on file regarding the grandmother that raised her. None of the claims of abuse were ever fully investigated and Ms. Summers' grandmother died last month. That in itself, could have been a catalyst for the psychotic break."

The older doctor nodded her head, apparently satisfied with the patient's history and went to the door. Peering inside the window, she frowned at seeing the room empty.

"Dr. Michaels... care to explain to me why the patient is not in her room?"

"What?...But she was in there only an hour ago before we began our rounds. She hasn't been cleared to be released into the general population yet." Dr. Michaels turned to the nurse and asked for the room key. Turning the key in the lock, she cautiously opened the door. Having dealt with violently psychotic patients before, she wasn't about to go bursting in there, but she gasped when the door fully opened and nothing was in the room save for one messed up bed. The patient had just vanished.

OOOOOO

The cold, wet ground soaked through her thin, cotton scrubs and she shivered violently. She had no shoes on and her toes were unbearably cold. The miserableness of her situation hit her when she opened her eyes to see a grey, clouded sky above with a light drizzle falling onto her face. Confused as to how she had gotten there, she wondered if she was having some kind of hallucination. The doctors had been telling her that she been having them, so maybe this was one.

Plus she had been on enough drugs the lately that she hardly knew what was real and what was imagined anymore. She stood on shaky legs and looked about her. She was alone.

"Hello?" She called out, shoving her hands under her arms in an effort to keep war. It did little to stop the shaking. "Is anybody here?"

Only the flapping wings and loud caws of a flock of crows nearby answered her.

She looked about her. She was in some kind of old, ghost town. Dilapidated buildings with rickety, wood porches surrounded her, looking more like a cheesy set out of a Hollywood western than a real town.

Taking a few tentative steps forward she called out again, hoping for a human voice to answer her this time. She was scared, more scared than she had ever been in her whole life.

"Well hello there, sweetheart." A man's voice behind her had her spinning on her heels

A blond haired man wearing faded jeans and a denim work shirt stood behind her with his arms folded across his chest, a smile playing at his lips. She shivered again, but not from the cold, but from the strange yellow eyes he stared at her with. She felt her heart begin to race.

"You again?" She managed to get out. "How did I get here? What am I doing here?"

"Oh, I brought you here. We're gonna play a little game...kinda like survivor, except without the tropical island and you're just the first of many contestants to play. " He held out his hand and waved them around the abandoned town. "Welcome to Cold Oak, Sweet cheeks."

OOOOO

"God fuckin' dammit!" Dean wrestled with the socket wrench one handed, demanding it to bow to his will, but when it slipped through his fingers yet again he sounded off another loud echoing curse.

He stooped to pick it up once again from the ground, bumping his slinged up shoulder on the way down. "Ahhh...for cryin' out loud."

Two large boots crunched along the gravel and stopped next to him and picked the wrench up for him. "Here, let me get that."

Dean looked up half in worry and half in irritation. Sam was still way too pale for his liking, but being born a Winchester meant he had inherited a stubborn streak a mile wide and getting him to stay in bed had been nearly impossible.

"You should be resting."

"So should you."

"Fixing my car _is_ restful."

"Doesn't really look like it."

"You just don't appreciate the fine art of restoring a classic beauty like this to life."

Sam snorted. "If you say so."

"A couple more weeks and she should be purring like a tiger again, just you see."

"Need any help?"

Dean snatched the socket wrench away from Sam's offering hands. "Nah...doin' just fine."

As if to prove his point wrong, Dean went back into the engine and tried again to settle the wrench over a stubborn nut and once again it fell out of his grasp and he let loose another string of cuss words. Sam chuckled a little at his plight.

"Yep...looks like you're doing just fine on your own." Sam sighed after that, Dean once again didn't need him around. "Guess I'll leave you to it then."

Dean watched as Sam turned his back to head towards the house. He knew he was doing it again, pushing Sam away, keeping him at arm's length because he was too afraid to face the emotions and the words of his father still echoing loudly in his head. It was to his surprise own surprise when his mouth began working before his brain could catch up and he called out, "Sam wait...."

Sam stopped and turned back around, Dean's eyes locked on his as though pleading with him to stay. "Guess it would have been too much to ask for that girl to shoot me in the left arm, but it looks like I could use a hand...or two." He pointed to his immobile arm, a grin sneaking up on his features.

Sam couldn't help but feel a smile growing on his own face as he walked back to his brother,

"Ya know...I owe you a big apology." Sam started as he grabbed the wrench from Dean's hand.

"For what?"

"For leaving...For doing that again. You may have noticed a pattern here with me, but, sometimes, it's just so damned easy to get up and walk away when things get rough, ya know? But I was wrong, I shouldn't have gone off like that. None of this would have happened if I'd just stayed."

Sam sighed heavily before continuing. "This whole thing was my fault. I shouldn't have gone after Dad's truck anyway. Turns out it was sold at a police auction last week.

Dean sighed and ran his free hand through his sweaty hair. "Forget it, Sam. You wouldn't have left if I hadn't practically kicked your ass out the door. You know as well as I that Dad's truck was just an excuse for you to get out of my blast radius for a while."

The younger brother gave Dean a little nod then turned his attention towards the engine. "So, what am I doing here?"

"Just unscrew that nut there so I can take out the carburetor."

"Which one is the carburetor again?"

Dean sighed and pointed to the part in question. "This one, genius."

Sam began unscrewing the nut as Dean watched on until he cleared his throat and began to speak again, bridging the span of the gulf that divided them lately.

"Ya know, I don't do the whole Oprah thing, I now that you want to help, but I'm dealing with things in my own way and I'm not ready to really talk about Dad. But he was your dad too, so if you want, I'll listen, I can't promise I'll talk, but I'll listen."

Sam lifted his eyes connecting them with Dean's and gave him a ghost of a smile, more of a twitch than anything, but it was an acknowledgment of his own pain in losing their father and Sam took it for what it was worth. He wouldn't be able to get Dean open up completely. Not yet anyway, but it was a baby step forward and that's what he decided they had to take: baby steps.

Thanks, Dean. That means a lot to me."

"So...you think we're gonna be okay...we good?"

"Yeah. We're getting there."

**The End**


End file.
